Operation: SKYSHARK
by Ameslan
Summary: Nearly 20 years later and many changes have taken place. The old crew is called to work with a new team. A new design of helicopter must deal with a faceless enemy and a traitor from within… Final chaps 31-37 now posted. Rating due to language.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own the rights to any of this but this is my vision of what would happen if the AIRWOLF project was revitalized and brought into the 21st century. This story was originally amalgamated from a concept of several friends while we were brainstorming what Desert Storm would be like if an Apache-style helicopter codenamed the 'PALADIN' were outfitted like our favorite Lady. This story has characters from Stargate SG-1 and is a slight crossover because of that. I've changed some of the characterizations and some of the 'shippers' are not going to be happy. I disregarded the events which happened after season 3 but alluded to certain details to appease purists. I admit there are some inconsistencies but this is my first non-space sci-fi. I have placed some religious aspects in here even though religion was never dwelt upon by the series but I have a minister in my family and as a good storyteller I'm not one to turn down a good challenge. I'm going to start this out a little slowly so I can establish my version of the mythos. Since nothing about the series was sacred to the original writers for the series, I promise to continue that tradition… ;-)

I have now completed this story. Although NeoOffice was not entirely enthusiastic about saving in the .RTF format, I have uploaded everything. I hope the readers enjoys the story and I may revisit this vision should there be sufficient interest. Since my laptop is working again I will begin assembling my notes for the STARGATE SG-1/AIRWOLF crossover "CLIPPED WINGS". The summary is as follows: When Archangel loses contact after being summoned to Colorado for an International Oversight Agency meeting, Merella convinces Stringfellow to come out of his 3 year old retirement. AIRWOLF faces incredible challenges when combating incredibly advanced weaponry. Archangel makes a decision about a close personal relationship which changes Hawke's life. During the mission, Merella and Hawke confess their feelings for each other. O'Neill and Hawke must work together when the F-302s and AIRWOLF combine forces to fight against the enemy invaders.

The stories SKYSHARK DOWN! and TURNABOUT GAMBIT… are included in this project even though they were originally intended to be separated. I decided against killing off a major character as part of SD but I do reveal a major plot twist in TG. I was originally only going to hint at it and see what the readers thought but I decided that the character who was going to be killed off would be the one to figure it out so I left the character in. There are a couple unusual chapters where the story is told from the perspective of the enemy, I have allowed that sometimes that the passage of time will cause changes in a person's attitude or relationships and wrote subtle changes into the characterizations and narrative, as well as a chapter is actually repeated when told from two different perspectives (trust me on this, its _not_ as bad as it sounds…). A special thank you to those who have been reading this, I was amazed by the numbers.

A special note in reference to the usage of Sign Language in this story. I had a discussion with a Deaf family member about using ASL syntax in conversations. There was a concern between accurate representation and confusing the reader. I decided for simplicity's sake to simply use Signed English word order and note the expressions by using an plus (+) as the quotation mark.

ÅcÅcÅcÅcÅc

It had been about a decade since the picture had been taken.

The promise was made and kept.

Just before the beginning of Desert Storm, St John had been found and AIRWOLF had been delivered.

It had later come out that he hadn't actually been missing the whole time, he'd been working in deep cover to expose a warlord who was using old POW camps as a cover for his terrorist activities.

Dominic Santini's nephew who was his namesake, had performed the actual return. The young man's name was Dominick but he went by either Nick, Nicky, or Nicko ("pronounced the _eye-talian_ way as _knee_K-_owe_ thank you very much!").

Dominick had been a USAF commando who had worked for NORAD for several years until 2001 when he'd requested reassignment to work with a NATO assigned unit in the European theater. He'd worn his uniform for the occasion and String had commented he didn't know which had the bigger shine, Nick's medals or Dom's proud grin.

During Desert Storm, Nick had flown AIRWOLF along with an AF Major. They had served with distinction throughout the European and West Asia/North African theater for several years until they performed an escort service for a rescue mission. That ill-fated trip saw the end of AIRWOLF and the Major who had been killed when the door had been smashed and a piece of shrapnel had torn a chunk out of his neck. Nick had barely survived and had subsequently retired due to his injuries.

Dom had gone into semi-retirement when St John had bought out half of his share of Santini Air.

Hawke Aviation had more helicopters and services to match. Dom had been more than pleased when Nick had offered to come aboard.

Dom had not flown in over a year by that time and seeing his namesake _'poured some life into an old man's bones'_ as one of the Hawke brothers had put it. Dom had acted annoyed by the sentiment, but having the brothers working side-by-side had warmed his heart and demeanor and the aging aviator even used the phrase himself on occasion.

The Santinis worked together for about 6 months until Dom had chest pains while on a flight.

He had decided to retire anyway since Archangel had been asked to step down as the FIRM was being restructured in the fall of 2001. The CIA had asked its contractor to make some changes including a position for a man of Stringfellow's talents.

He hadn't been thrilled with the prospect as he'd promised St John that he was devoting his life to peace and was never having anything to do with combat aviation again. It wasn't until everyone had confronted him at his cabin that Stringfellow had relented and accepted the offer.

He said he had one condition as far as his brother was concerned once he got 3 month's pay and St John would have to agree sight unseen.

The clever ex-soldier had figured quite quickly that his brother and Caitlin were pursuing a quiet relationship and Stringfellow had revealed his condition was that St John finally propose and he would pay for the wedding.

They now had a 4 year old daughter, Kayra Lynn.

Nick and St John had assembled a team of employees which was in high demand throughout the region. They had a steady flow of business from Corporate travel to Hollywood projects.

Friday was employee day and anyone who was in town was encouraged to have an informal demeanor and attire. St John had given everyone nicknames in line with his off-beat sense of humor.

Even Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III stopped by for the after work party. His code-title of Archangel had been retired when he had stepped down from the Director's office to become a 'Consultant'. The new man in the Director's office had been given yet another Bible-based code-title of Judas.

Michael was making small talk about the picture with Caitlin while nursing a 20 once 'stubby' of Dr Pepper. She giggled and wiped the remnants of the just-finished chicken-cheesesteak hoagie out of his mustache. He was mentioning that he'd spoken with her brother-in-law that morning while visiting the Special Projects division. They all knew Stringfellow had been diligently working on updating the designs which had nearly been lost when AIRWOLF had crashed.

St John took this as his cue while noting that the last employee was just leaving the hanger and well out of earshot. With a trash bag in either hand, Hawke looked at Nick and asked _why the "Church Consulting" _(as the FIRM was now called)_ types were always mixing pleasure with business._ Nick laughed as he plucked the envelope out of Coldsmith-Brigg's hand.

The page inside bore the unmistakable logo of the Director's office. Michael simply stood and leaned on his cane and blushed as Caitlin rested a hand on his shoulder while Nick passed the letter to her husband with a flourish.

St John knew that Michael had an affection for her and when he'd finally gotten the former spy to admit it, less than a year ago, the ever irrepressible pilot had immediately announced _"SOLD!"_. After reading the document, St John announced,

ÅgIt seems Judas wants us to pay him a visit"


	2. Chapter 2

Once they'd all arrived at Church Consulting and been greeted by the General now in command of the 'Zebra' team, a quick sweep was done of their helicopter.

They started to check their weapons but the General had held up a hand and informed them that all they needed to do was safe their firearms into Condition 3. Those who were carrying clip fed pistols placed the chambered round into the magazine and flipped the safety on. The revolvers were simply unloaded.

As they made their way into the building, Caitlin expressed some confusion at this since she'd always had to surrender her Bersa-Llama 'Thunder' .380 whenever they had visited.

St John informed his wife _this was an __**'official'**__ visit and that the Zebra squad would have them doing a lovely imitation of chunky salsa if they even thought of touching their guns_. Nick gave him a strange look and Hawke sighed that _he knew he had a way of finding the black cloud behind every silver lining_. The General had remarked _that was a good trait for every field agent_.

The gray camouflage clad commando then admitted his admiration of the paint job on the restored UH-1 Huey. The vintage helicopter had been Stringfellow's last acquisition before accepting the position with Church Consulting but it had still had been a green jigsaw puzzle sitting in a dozen or so pieces when he'd left. It now had the custom paint scheme of Hawke Aviation. Nick sighed and muttered that he vastly preferred the accommodations of the Blackhawk they usually traveled in.

They made small talk as they strode through multiple sections, purposely making a diversion through the main conference area which contained a portrait of Coldsmith-Briggs along with other notable figures from the contractor facility's storied history.

Seated under the portraits was a female USAF Lieutenant Colonel with short blonde hair who stood and followed them at a gesture from the General. She did not look at Nick but he obviously recognized her.

When they left the building, the group found themselves in an empty airfield. Standing just outside a hangar adjacent to the building they'd just exited were 2 figures. One dressed in all white was Judas and the second was a female in a wheelchair who smiled warmly when she saw Nick. Her father had adopted him when they were both children. The General made the introductions,

"At your request Judas, here are your guests. To those who do not know her, this officer is Colonel Carter, Air Force Research and Development. The Colonel has been apprised of the files on those from Hawke Aviation while en route. The only file we did not include was for Judas' assistant, Jo Santini." As the General introduced her, he gestured toward the woman in the wheelchair. Carter nodded sadly and replied,

"I know who she is, I was there at the Pentagon and was in the next room preparing the briefing when the section collapsed from the attack on 9-11 when Marella was killed and Miss Santini's spine was crushed." Coldsmith-Briggs commented,

"Which is why I hired her. Since I wanted my replacement to have the most skilled person I could think of for the position as well as a reminder of just what we are doing here."

"Speaking of which…" Nick began but was interrupted by Judas,

"We all know that our Presidential mandate is _'to win the hearts and minds'_ of those our enemies would subjugate. Unfortunately, in this day we sometimes have to carry a candy bar in one hand and a gun in the other. I'm sure you are all aware of the speech I gave before Congress about _the pursuit of peace_ being our greatest weapon of all. For me, conflict has always been a means to an end. This is why I was hired for this position in an effort to establish peace. Sometimes the peacemakers must take heed from scripture where it states in _Luke 22 verse 36, 'let he who has no sword sell his cloak and buy one'_ and years ago we founded a project code-named AIRWOLF in an attempt to create such a sword. My predecessor found a way to co-opt that project in an attempt to combine both the cloak and the sword. For a time it was successful. But times have changed and the project has been reinvisioned." As if on cue, from the opposite side of the hangar the group heard a low humming whine. Five helicopters appeared and did a slow orbit before coming to a hover in front of them. The black-on-gray paint scheme was an unmistakable homage to its predecessor. That was where any similarity ended. Judas continued,

"I was given the code-name Judas for having a reputation of being '_dovish_' or a '_lamb_' where the topic of conflict is concerned. It is my steadfast belief but I also adhere to the concept of the '_Judas goat_' or '_Judas lamb_' where I hope I can lead others to see it is not a good place to be my enemy. They can either follow me to where I want them to go or it may be a dangerous place for them. To this end, I have found a way to make the sword bigger and sharper with no small help from the resourcefulness of Colonel Carter." At this Nick laughed,

"Yes, her resourcefulness is legendary." Everyone stopped and stared at him for a moment. Carter broke the silence by admitting with a puzzled smile,

"You do look familiar but I didn't see anything in your file that corresponded with any assignments of mine."

"That's because my file with NORAD was sealed when I was reassigned. I had been assigned to SG…_SOG_ team 7 and we worked together on project P3X-585." Carter's eyes opened wide and she nodded as she admitted to remembering the occasion. With the hand that wasn't holding hands with Caitlin, St John gestured to Judas and requested,

"Now that we have gotten that out of the way, _whatever it was_, can we get back to finding out what Church Consulting has gotten me into this time? Whatever it is I'm sure they've bitten off more than I can chew!" Judas chuckled as he looked at St John,

"Funny you should put it that way. This design, despite being the legitimate heir to the AIRWOLF project, is completely unique. As such, we gave it an appropriate code name. I introduce to you the _SKYSHARK_."


	3. Chapter 3

While the helicopters had made their way to a landing in the hangar, the group had reentered the main building. They found themselves in a conference room Which had a display in front and another figure in white was standing at the lectern adjacent to the display.

Moments after being seated a group of men, 24 in all, entered the room. They were all clad in the same familiar blue-gray jumpsuits. The one major difference was the flight patch which was more suited to the new craft's name.

Jo's wheelchair quietly buzzed along as she took her place next to the lectern. She smiled and made a gesture as she approached Judas, Michael, and the other man at the lectern. As she turned the unit around to face those assembled, Carter caught her eye and made a gesture with her fist while rotating it at the bottom of her ribs. St John understood the ASL Sign Language sign for I'm sorry and realized Carter must still be frustrated for her part in the former pilot's inability to fly anymore. Equally frustrating was that Jo's eardrums had burst and she'd been rendered Deaf. It had taken a little over a year and 14 surgeries but she now had a cybernetic implant which was somewhere between a cochlear implant and the technology from Lindsay Wagner's '_the Bionic Woman_' TV show. While the experimental procedure was being perfected, Jo had studied Sign Language and then insisted everyone else do the same. Her voice still had an odd tonal quality to it as she spoke,

"Just today we got final confirmation. Our own designation has always been the Lakota model and NATO has approved our request to refer to the versions stationed in their theater of operations as the Ocelot." There was some quiet murmurs of approval amongst the pilots and one brown-skinned man in particular smiled broadly and nodded while making eye contact with Judas. Jo continued as the display changed to reflect her narration, "The base design is obviously from the venerable Aérospatiale Gazelle and we actually got some of the frame upgrades from another project. As it was a matter of national security, they had no choice but the boys in _blue_ from L.A. Gave us a lot of _thunder_ about our use of these design upgrades.

The chin mount turret contains a .30 cal 5 barreled Minigun…and for you Schwarzenegger types out there, you know who you testosterone addicts are, NO this can NOT be removed to be employed as a personal mêlée weapon!" She looked straight at St John as she said this but there was a round of laughter all through the room and one pilot whose build was more on the lanky side made a comment with a disappointed tone and the two on either side of him gave him a shoulder slap as they _'hoo-yah'_ their approval. "You can also fire in semiautomatic mode with incredible accuracy.

Also in the turret is a technology on loan from Air Force R&D courtesy of our relationship with Colonel Carter. The weapon is codenamed ZAT and the project is classified. Simply put, it allows a greater degree of flexibility with the existing energy based targeting system. The new system is a highly flexible weapons system in its own right. You can leave a targeting 'paint' on an object which the frequency burst will last for almost 15 minutes so that you can be home eating dinner when the attack on your target is commenced. On the other hand, our resident Trekk-ers can actually have Mr Worf set phasers for stun, or if there are Tribbles around, they can be quietly disintegrated.

Like the Apache, this has a set of stub wings, on the ends of which is an impeller system. The impeller is more efficient than the old rockets but has its limitations. The SKYSHARK must be in motion for the system to activate. It cannot achieve the near Mach 2 speeds of the original AIRWOLF but you can maneuver much more fluidly along a lateral plane.

Like the older system there are conformed weapons pods. This time there are 2 of them on either side of the helicopter. On one side is a 20mm cannon and a .50 cal machine gun. The cannon can only be fired while the SKYSHARK is in motion and then it is preferred that the impellers be active. This side also has a 40mm grenade launcher which can fire once every two seconds or the 5 barrel rotating system can be extended and all 5 can be launched at once or in rapid succession.

The other side contains traditional air-ground and air-intercept missiles as well as an system similar to the grenade launcher but used for the deployment of unguided rockets." She continued for about another half hour narrating the video demonstration.

The first half was the usual test-range footage which several pilots guessed was done at either Nellis, Edwards, Eglin, or Langley Air Force Bases or, even more likely, Groom Lake. Nick happened to be looking at Carter when the last one was named and noted her lips twitch _Aha she's been assigned to Area 51!_ The second part of the briefing was a computer extrapolated animation and was remarkably good. It had been taken from the situation reviews of simulator sessions and enhanced.

At the end of the session, refreshments were brought in and The pilots were asked to introduce themselves as well as giving their callsigns. They started at the left of the lectern and went clockwise, each two people being a paired team: Sami 'SANITY' Nguyen, Trace 'POLO' Marcosian, Christopher 'SLATE' Miner, Edward 'GRASSY' Noll, Allan 'GRAPHIC' Bryce, Gregory 'FARMER' Barnes, Walter 'SPASM' Hicks, Thomas 'ORGANIC' Atoll, Frederick 'BLISTER' Bliss, Derek 'PARALLEL' Parker, Albert 'SNAPPY' Jackson, Samuel 'SUPERBOY' Kent, Harold 'ANCIENT' Younger, James 'CRUNCHY' Abel, Shawn 'NATIVE' Readdy, Nicholas 'CHESTER' Orange, Blaine 'AUTUMN' Somerset, Myles 'SASSY' MacShane, Hernando 'SPARKS' Santiago, Isaac 'BULL' Oney, Gravis 'GRAVITY' Newman, Wayne 'DUKE' Johnston, Dominick 'JUNIOR' Santini, St John 'BISHOP' Hawke, Arash 'ALLERGIC' Aziz, Nikolai 'GROUPIE' Korolyshyn. Caitlin noted aloud there were no females in the group and Judas commented they'd put out a call but no females responded although there were a small number of females in their support personnel. She got a round of laughter when she exaggerated her accent and commented that it was _typical chauvinism. _

That night, they would be flying out to meet an Aircraft Carrier which would take them to their destination in Europe. Church Consulting was establishing an operational foothold there since a permanent remote command facility was needed and arrangements had almost been completed with a private contractor.

Everyone left the building and climbed into their helicopters all but one were filled. Jo looked up at Nick and St John and announced _the last one was theirs…if they wanted it_. The two men stared at each other for a timeless moment as if holding a silent conversation.

They both agreed; Nick couldn't resist a challenge and St John never met an invitation he could say 'no' to. He indicated that _to prove it he now had a wife and child in his life_. Caitlin crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue at him in response.

Before either man could move, Judas asked if he could take the SKYSHARK for a quick spin. Nick smiled and nodded while stepping out of the way. As he climbed in, he faced the man who had been helping Jo at the lectern and asked if he wanted to come along. He strode over muttering that he thought the other man would never ask. After they took off and began doing various maneuvers, St John smiled,

"Stringfellow Hawke and Dominic Santini back in action again."


	4. Chapter 4

It was nearly a week later. The trip to the location in Germany had been uneventful. Nick and St John spent the first three days in the simulator and then they began running drills with the other teams.

On Saturday they all took a full day's break which culminated in a _"Time of Joined Celebration"_ and they had been told to dress in the preferred garb of their culture. As soon as St John stepped in the room, he noted a handful of the men were wearing flowing robes with various decorations. Everyone was asked to share from his heart a few thoughts about whatever was on their minds.

This tradition had actually been started by BULL and ALLERGIC when concern was raised about how their 'conflicting' religions could allow the men to work together. ALLERGIC was a Sunni Muslim who had gotten his callsign as a play on his first name (he got A-rash because he's ALLERGIC) but he vehemently despised the distortion of his religion by those who would use it to do harm to others. BULL was a Conservative Jew who had gotten his callsign as a play on his last name (bull-oney) and played along by pretending to pout _'there WAS such as thing as Kosher bologna…besides myself, of course'_. When asked about the potential for conflict, both men had replied they were both Republicans, but ALLERGIC did state he had a problem with his partner GROUPIE who was a Democrat (Korolyshyn noted that he was a _Social_ Democrat and there was a difference). GROUPIE was Ukrainian-born but raised in Poland by his parents who were missionaries in the Russian Orthodox Church. His callsign came from the pronunciation of his last name and that it sounded like the word 'coalition'. Despite St John's best efforts to prove otherwise, there wasn't a Polish joke he hadn't already heard.

Similarly, ORGANIC got his from constantly being called 'tomato' from the mispronunciation of his name. SPARKS was one of many who had earned that callsign by landing his jet on a land-based runway with a damaged arrestor hook which was dangling enough to cause a nice fireworks display upon landing.

St John actually spent most of the evening chatting with SANITY in fluent Vietnamese. Caitlin spoke with the brown-skinned man who had seemed pleased by the formal designation given to the SKYSHARK project. NATIVE was half Choctaw and half Nez-Perce. Caitlin had picked up some Apache while she was working as a Deputy Sheriff and this was a language he spoke as well, given the historic relation between the Apache and the Choctaw nations. Nick reunited with SASSY whom he had met briefly years ago when the other man had worked for the British Special Air Services and had provided backup when an operation for Nick's team 'had gotten a trifle sticky' as it had been pointedly understated at the time. They were joined by SPASM, whose callsign had been changed when he tried dancing like the winner from 'American Idol' whose last name he shared.

CHESTER had simply been born and raised in Chester county, Pennsylvania and never missed a chance to regale others with tales from his home locale. When he been assigned to a unit which also had the resident champion powerlifter, he had briefly been given the callsign HIGGINS in reference to the character from 'Magnum PI' who had the same habit for sharing. St John noted that SNAPPY had an appropriate callsign since he always dressed in a matching suit and tie. He also noted SNAPPY and his partner, the baby-faced SUPERBOY, kept mostly to themselves and left early.

Once the crowd had thinned out, St John found his way to meet up with his wife. She was chatting with CRUNCHY who, true to his callsign's reputation, was feeding an insatiable craving for pretzels. Mr and Mrs Hawke excused themselves and made their way to the facility's arboretum. It was the first time in days they had any quiet time together.

They sat quietly together under one of the trees and just spoke softly to one another. Caitlin had been working with the support crew and had taken the team operating the simulator on a rather aggressive ride in a SKYSHARK so they could better understand the systems. She had also insisted that everyone working with her be familiarized with basic firearm skills since she had at one time been a certified departmental instructor. Even though she had been a 'Distinguished Expert' pistol shot having a rating well over 260 with her issued .357 revolver, she had gotten too accustomed to the 9mm she'd decided to use on assignments in recent years. Since the FIRM had issued them all H&K .45s, her arm had gotten very sore over the past couple days.

St John removed the wrist brace and gently massaged the soreness away. He told her how the experimental new mini-drone which had been mounted under the tail boom aft of the fuselage was performing. He also mentioned that the new learning computer system was much more advanced and cleaner but the responses seemed more generic and the system seemed to know how it wanted to be handled. Even with the salvaged parts of the original AI's integration, Nick had said it wasn't exactly the same.

The new helmet, with its Advanced Tactical Analysis System, also took some getting used to but seemed fairly user-friendly since the multi-input factors reduced the workload on the pilot. By a combination of nerve impulses, optical tracking and voice input, the system practically read his mind and reminded him somewhat of the interface from the movie FIREFOX. They were both quite tired but right now neither of them cared.

Out of the corner of his eye, St John thought he caught a hint of motion followed by the faintest hushed echo of a man's voice but dismissed it after a few moments. Had he been close enough he would have heard,

"_As agreed. Tomorrow dusk. I agree that killing him will take care of your problem and then make the delivery. Since I'll be assigned to one of the helicopters neither will be a problem but I'll need a distraction."_


	5. Chapter 5

St John had never needed more than 4-5 hours of sleep. That morning he'd awakened and gone through his entire routine without Caitlin even so much as stirring in their shared suite. Nick was a light sleeper and had also awakened early. When they had arrived to receive the daily assignments, they got a pleasant surprise.

Michael was in his old white suit again. Someone in the CIA had made a smart decision for once and reinstated him as project leader until the permanent supervisor could be determined. Archangel had even shaved his goatee and trimmed back his mustache.

When the rest of the teams had arrived for the morning briefing, the response was mostly approval. There was a murmur of agreement when Caitlin wondered why _he couldn't be left in charge and who could they be thinking of to do a better job than him_? Archangel admitted he had some idea but frowned that he didn't want to get into it at this time.

The time was ready for the SKYSHARK's first official mission.

They had flown from Germany to a location in Iraq where a group of various uniforms, 3-piece suits, and other assorted dignitaries who carried themselves with an air of self-importance all ogled the helicopters.

As they were about to leave, a General strode up to St John, saluted him, and spoke with him briefly. Once they were all airborne again, St John asked Nick,

"Why would that General be under the impression I might outrank him even though I'm not wearing any insignia? I'm only a Colonel in the Army Reserve!"

"I think someone may have buttered your bread a little. Besides it was nice to watch the guy squirm. I hear that he was informed you were diverted here since the Joint Chiefs made a special request of the CIA and you are here on special assignment from the Pentagon." St John protested,

"But that has nothing to do with him…"

"We both know that but when I started to smudge the details I saw an opportunity and ran with it. It especially helped when I mentioned a certain General who is a mutual acquaintance of Carter's and mine back when I worked for NORAD." Nick concluded and St John grinned widely. It was hard to be upset at his surrogate cousin when it was just the kind of prank he would have pulled.

BISHOP then got on the intercom and detailed their mission.

Nick mentally noted the highlights as he keyed them into the mission log: large insurgent camp, right across Iraqi border in Iran, platoons from third Army Ranger Battalion made move against but was held off, outfitted with a combination of Soviet and Chinese small-arms, ground and aviation equipment. They were making their approach from the east at dawn so that they could come in from the sun.

They were still nearly 10 minutes out when an alarm went off on JUNIOR's panel. Without missing a beat, he announced as he fingers danced their way across the console,

"I'm getting a lot of activity on the long-range detectors. There is too much interference for a more detailed analysis. Beginning to get spectrographic readings. We will be coming up on a perimeter patrol just over the next rise."

The rounds from the AK-47s did little more than tickle the skin of the SKYSHARKs. The patrol was composed of about a dozen men in three trucks. The first two trucks were outfitted with a .30 caliber machinegun mount and the third had a rocket launcher mounted on it.

The rocket launcher never stood a chance before a SKYSHARK's 20mm cannon shredded it. The machinegunner on the second truck managed to get off a short burst before the turret of another SKYSHARK smashed into it as well. BISHOP announced over the intercom,

"Heads up everyone. They likely heard that but since we used no explosives, they probably are not sure what they are dealing with just yet. Everyone into position. Your authorization is Candlestick Blue." As all 6 of the other helicopters with him moved off to position themselves for their specific parts of the attack, BISHOP repeated the authorization code and listened as all of them confirmed.

The encampment was taken by slight surprise since BISHOP activated the 25X targeting system as he used the turret to snipe the two main guard towers. JUNIOR commented that he could see why the Rangers had such a difficult time as the defense was well-coordinated and furious. BISHOP agreed as he fired a couple grenades into a group of men who were preparing to fire several RPGs. He followed that up with a rocket into a small hut.

As he came to the far side of his section of the encampment, he saw a couple tanks tucked into a pocket in the terrain. One air-ground missile apiece neutralized them. BISHOP felt the SKYSHARK shudder and spun the helicopter around to see a HIND firing its cannons.

The HIND followed BISHOP's maneuvering while continuing to fire its cannon and he replied in kind while whipping the pedals around, pulling back on the collective and easing down on the cyclic. This resulted in him flying backwards as he dropped the SKYSHARK into the HIND's line of fire long enough for his own cannon to find its mark. The rounds stitched their way across the Russian designed helicopter's cockpit, grazed an engine, and bisected a wingmount weapon pod as the HIND's pilot tried to maneuver out of the way. It did little good as the helicopter lurched, spun, stalled and crashed.

The next HIND was a bigger model and unfortunately decided to fire off a series of rockets–fortunately, the pilot had to make a radical maneuver to avoid colliding with the other HIND as it crashed and the contrails of the rockets sketched a nice semicircle around the SKYSHARK right as BISHOP launched an air-intercept missile.

The mission was progressing as planned thus far. Each SKYSHARK confirmed it had reached Omega point of stage one and there was no further aggressive action being taken. The moment after JUNIOR announced he was breaking communications silence to advise the Rangers they could move back in, he groaned,

"Uh oh, Hawke…you'd better hear this! A convoy just across the border has been ambushed!"


	6. Chapter 6

It took them less than 10 minutes to get to get to a point where they were less than 5 Km from the convoy's location.

When JUNIOR announced they were at a point he could switch from the satellite-enhanced long-range scanners to use the built-in short-range sensor packs, he commented,

"St John, this is strange, I'm getting conflicting readings. Our sensors are fine-tuned enough that we could embarrass the best that any CSI Lab Rat has to offer yet I cannot…" He paused and then made a sound into the intercom which caused BISHOP's ears to itch. It sounded like a sigh of resignation along with the angry throat-clearing growling cough he made when he was censoring an inappropriate comment.

The moment the convoy came into view for BISHOP, he could see a cacophony of activity on the ground.

JUNIOR came back over the intercom and sighed heavily right into the microphone, which caused a howling rush of static, before he announced slowly and evenly,

"We are ordered to disengage. A remote command has been issued via my terminal to have the AI terminate offensive weaponry. It is beyond my control. Our orders have been updated and we are to acknowledge Romeo-Tango-Bravo." BISHOP replied with a conniving tone to his voice,

"I recall that the ZAT device is defensive in nature; do we still have access to that?" When JUNIOR responded the affirmative, BISHOP aimed at the main concentration of attackers and picked off several who were carrying RPGs. His frustration vented, BISHOP laughed humorlessly,

"Orders is orders. Spread the word, my friend."

The unit regrouped and flew back to the muster point in Iraq.

Following the debriefing with Archangel, they all ate a late lunch together. Aziz and Korolyshyn had been the only ones close enough to know what had happened with the convoy and they had all been ordered not to discuss it with the others. Kent and Jackson had noticed that Nick was not pleased and had tried to engage him in conversation about it.

Like all Santinis, Nick was one who let his mood simmer for awhile as he thought about how to best proceed. It was a trait he did not share with the impulsive Hawke brothers although working together had caused Nick and St John to pick up on each other's personalities a bit. The only one that Santini actually spoke with was MacShane who confused everyone by calling him RED all the time. It wasn't until Caitlin picked up on the fact that he was wearing a red trooper's beret that everyone understood. While they laughed off their embarrassment, Jo arrived. In response to the puzzled look on her face Caitlin responded,

"I was just telling them that it fell to a woman to help a man understand things better." Jo grinned and blushed,

"I understand completely Sis." Jo glanced behind the others but nobody caught it except the Hawkes. The couple turned around and spotted Archangel making his way toward the group. The spouses shared a conspiratorial look which earned them a suspicious glare from the white-clad spy.

While working for him Miss Santini had developed feelings for him but felt that since she worked for him, and especially since Merella had literally died in her arms and his relationship with his late aide was not much of a secret, Jo had admitted her feelings to Caitlin. Caitlin had told her that she believed that keeping a secret from her husband was akin to lying to him so Jo had given her permission to tell him and _**only **_him.

Coldsmith-Briggs eased himself into one of the empty seats and smiled,

"One of these days I will find out just what your little secret is. I hate it when my employees have an inside joke and I'm not even privy to the subject." Caitlin glanced over to Jo and signed,

+Especially when you are the subject+ St John wiped his mustache with the palm of his hand to cover a suppressed grin. The enigmatic man whose cryptonym was Archangel continued,

"We are evaluating today's operation but everything seems to be performing better than anticipated. Tomorrow you will have the day off so we can download and analyze all of the data. During that time all of the SKYSHARKs will be in the main hangar with the port ventral body panels removed so the techs can access the databanks. I need the four of you to go visit the regional CIA HQ to meet with a special projects envoy. I already have a Humvee gassed up and ready for you." As he concluded, he indicated St John, Nick, Aziz, and Korolyshyn.

Everyone at the table with the exception of Jackson and Kent expressed relief. The two started to protest why they never got any special treatment while everyone else did but Archangel informed them it was not his decision since he no longer held a directorship position.

Once they made their way to the motorpool, Hawke paused to kiss his wife and Santini seized the opportunity to snag the keys. Aziz opened the back door and gestured for Korolyshyn to enter. The Ukrainian smiled and intoned,

"Salaam Alaichem." As he entered the vehicle. He paused partway into his seat as he spotted the equipment and turned to Aziz and commented. Aziz faced the logistics coordinator and asked,

"These PDWs are nice but my partner and I are trained with the AK-47. Do you have any of those handy?" The clerk shook his head and replied that he did not. Indicating the handful of the notorious weapon in question locked to the cage on the wall, the clerk announced those were assigned to another party. He pointed to the computer and stated he was following orders as to what equipment they had been assigned. Aziz thanked the man and nodded understanding.

As Santini started the vehicle, Hawke switched the GPS on and noted,

"This drive will be about 45 minutes. According to our orders, we are going to see a gent with the cryptonym of Cyrene. Just from the way that Church Consulting has been handling out aliases, I'd be willing to bet that our host is African-American."

"From the Biblical Simon of Cyrene who was the Black man who helped Jesus Christ carry the cross. Yes I remember the lessons that Uncle Dom taught me as well." Santini replied as he put his foot into the accelerator.


	7. Chapter 7

_Weekly journal of Dominic Santini: Since my last entry, the kids have realized a dream. Only hours after I did my journal Church Consulting offered to put them back into action heading up the training program for the follow-up to the airborn assault program. KC was left in charge of Hawke Aviation and String and I took time off to help run things in their absence. KayLy has really enjoyed getting to spend time with Grandpa. I have promised to take her to the park after I have some business to take care of in town. I am really enjoying the charity work and getting a chance to spend time with the delightful Jeannette DeNoon is always a good reason to get out of the office._

"Please Ma'am, by all means, call me Dom." Santini grinned, pouring as much of his natural charm as he could into the request. As they continued down the hall he offered an elbow and she slid her hand through. She uttered a soft _Ooh_ of approval as she ran a finger over the fabric of his suit jacket and then replied,

"In that case, feel free to call me Jeannie." Her reply came right as they entered the room. There was a group of teens along the other wall and closer end had heard her reply. There was a round of giggles and the gentleman at the far end smiled.

He wore a dark blue suit like Santini's, but that was where any similarity ended. The one Santini wore had a vest and was certainly not off the rack.

In her typical elegant fashion, DeNoon guided her escort over to a position next to the lectern. As he took up his position, he gestured for the youngest person in the room to join him. The 4 year old girl readily walked over from the doorway to stand next to him and grabbed his free hand. She glanced up at him with a bored look and whispered,

"when are we going to the park? it's been all day!"

"soon honey. it has only been two hours since we left home. look at the clock."

Jeanette smiled cordially at the interchange and then nodded in the direction of the man with the off the rack suit. Dominic laughed politely and then gestured with the hand of the arm which Jeanette had just released,

"By all means, Sheriff please proceed." The Sheriff stepped up to the lectern and spent about 10 minutes talking about the new DeNoon Center.

Due to the sizable donation, there was also a new Santini wing for computer and technology skills. The kids who were going into the program had to meet certain criteria. As long as they stayed out of trouble, they could stay and once they completed, their records would be erased.

Once he got done with his speech, he shook hands with Santini and DeNoon and introduced some of the people who had helped the center come about.

Dom was chatting with a young man named Walt whom he recognized as one of the contractors who had worked on the center and who was the father of one of the younger men in the program. Walt was making small talk but it was obvious that he was wanting to say something. Suddenly his son, Little Wally, appeared next to Dominic and asked,

"Is that the suit you said probably cost more than you make in a year?" Walt cringed and covered his face with his hands. Santini raised his eyebrows and smiled,

"He said that?" Little Wally nodded and replied,

"Yes when we were discussing about how we were going pay for my mom's medical bills. Dad said he wished he could have that suit since it would cover most of it. But he was going to see if you had any other work for him since he hasn't worked since the Center got completed." The young father was finally able to silence his pre-teen son and apologized profusely,

"I'm really sorry, Mister Santini. I really didn't… I realize this is…" Thoroughly embarrassed, the red-faced man tried to make his way toward the door.

Dominic shrugged and held up a hand. Walt stopped and winced as he looked around the room. Dominic walked over to KC and said,

"This man here is the Shop Manager for Hawke Aviation. Give him a call and we'll see what we can do." KC grinned widely as he handed over a business card. It had the distinctive logo of Hawke Aviation and was one of the generic cards rather than one of his own customized ones. KC opened his own suit jacket and made a show of looking for a pen until Walt handed him one. KC then indicated that he was writing his personal extension and to keep this someplace safe.

Dominic mused that this was exactly why he'd inherited the money in the first place. The industrialist he'd rescued about a decade and a half ago had died 3 years ago. True to his word, he'd left Santini in his will. The man's son had become friends with Santini during an internship in Hawke Aviation's early years so there had been no contesting of the terms of the will. Along with the 62.5 Million there was seat on the corporation's board and a 20 voting interest, which amounted to the third highest vote.

He'd helped to remove two corrupt board members, outvoted 5 projects which would have gone against the interests of local populace, and put an incentive program into place for new executives in the company. In the past 3 years, Dominic had invested in the lives of 18 employees by buying cars, covering a year's rent/mortgage, and even whole families' paid vacations.

One of the wives who was a recipient of his philanthropy was the sister of the new Sheriff.

The previous man to hold the post had a strained relationship with Santini since his son was the local Homicide Lieutenant who had arrested Dominic for the murder of his ex-wife all those years ago.

The new Sheriff had gotten the job after having been an Air Force MP who had returned home after being wounded in action. Santini finally met the Sheriff when the family had been given an aerial tour of the region in Hawke Aviation's Blackhawk. KC had been the pilot and Dominic had been the _ad hoc_ tour guide. He'd been discussing with the family how he was using his position to help out underprivileged kids by giving them a sense of accomplishment with the rides. The Sheriff had mentioned how he was working with the DeNoon Foundation on a similar program for troubled and delinquent kids who were working to improve themselves. This had piqued Santini's interest on a couple levels. Working through the Sheriff's Department, he'd helped the DeNoon Center expand and grow. With a sizable grant delivered anonymously through the Sheriff's Benevolent Association ('my lawyers will talk to your lawyers who will talk to their lawyers who will…'), the 5 year section of the long-term vision for the Center had been completed in just a year-and-a-half.

When the rumor mill got started, the identity of the benefactor had been a hard-kept secret. When Stringfellow had nearly shot an overly enthusiastic Private Investigator, Dominic had decided it was time to reveal himself.

The lovely Jeanette had been one of the few people to issue condolences when Dominic's ex-wife Lola had been murdered those many years ago. She had been one of a handful of people who had accepted him at his word when he'd declared his innocence. 6 months ago, a delighted Santini had revealed himself as the donor to an equally delighted _**Miss**_ DeNoon. She had been widowed 8 years previous and her generous inheritance came with the stipulation that she use it in the furtherance of charitable causes.

The two were now making small talk as the press was posing everyone for photos. A light tap on Santini's shoulder wrested his attention as KC said softly,

"Excuse me boss, but _Muddy Harry _wants you over at the stand." The Sheriff had gotten the odd nickname from his last name being Mudde and the fact that he was more proactive in his agenda than his predecessor.

In a brief presentation that Santini took no small satisfaction in the fact that it would have absolutely _galled_ the Homicide Captain who had pursued him until his retirement, the Sheriff swore Dominic in as a Deputy and gave him a badge.

Santini flashed KC a look which his Aide had come to know meant he was to whip out his Palm Pilot. The aging pilot then grinned,

"Aww gee, Mudde. You really didn't have to go though all that. I'm more than happy to help. That's what money is for, my friend. Tell you what, since I know you love my suit, what say we get you set up with one so that you can look like true member of the Center's advisory council during our meetings?" The Sheriff started to protest, but knowing Santini's stubbornness, realized it was futile.

When Santini had ordered the computers for the technology center, the Sheriff had found it easier to learn how to use Macs than to get Santini to order Windows systems. When Dominic had been informed that state regulations required a certain percentage of all types of platforms when technology grants were involved, Santini had complained that OSX was a _version_ of Unix. He had also jokingly accused the Sheriff of calling the State Bureau of Charitable Oversight in order to get him to relent.

There were handshakes all around and even salutes from the other Deputies.

There were some catcalls from the kids when Jeanette kissed Dominic on the cheek close to edge of his lips. He got laughter in response when he winked at the kids in response,

"What's the matter? Its just a handshake with the lips."

This elicited a fit of giggles from Kayra Lynn who, up until now had been doing her best not to look impossibly bored. After all, she had been promised this was a short stop on the way to the park…


	8. Chapter 8

The ride across the desert roads in the Humvee had taken just over an hour. The GPS had been calibrated for 100 Meter resolution and Santini had missed a turn. They had gone about 5 Kilometers before the roads diverged enough and they realized they were on the wrong road.

With Aziz and Hawke encouraging him, Santini chose to employ the old adage that 'a straight line was the truest way between two points' rather than retrace their path as Korolyshyn suggested.

Unfortunately, desert roads were not all endless sand. The sand sometimes hid traps which weren't obvious until you were right on top of them.

To add insult to injury, when it came time to change the blown tire, Korolyshyn drew the short straw.

Hawke insisted that Santini stay away from the tire by asking if he thought he'd done enough damage already.

While Aziz held the spare tire, he handed the lug nuts to Hawke. Hawke was bigger build and asked if the Muslim pilot wanted help with the tire. Aziz insisted that his partner was changing the tire and part of true Islamic beliefs was service to others in need.

Aziz also grinned that Hawke had gotten them lost in the first place so he wanted to ensure that he knew where the spare tire was.

Once they arrived, the motorpool clerk asked them if they had used a _stop-stick_ for traction judging from the look of the shredded tire.

The foursome was escorted into a large office where a young man walked out from behind the desk. True to St John's assessment, he was indeed Black.

One of the guards was making introductions as Santini strode foreward with hand extended as if to shake hands. Everyone knew that the two had worked together previously so nobody expected what came next.

As Cyrene went to clasp the extended hand, it was no longer there. Santini's elbow had been comfortably resting near his hip but it suddenly rocketed forward and straightened as his fist connected with the other man's cheek.

Cyrene spun through the air backward and landed solidly on his desk. The soft skin under his eye split open and unleashed a stream of blood that traced his path through the air. Nobody had a chance to respond before Santini snarled,

"That's for _'VAMP' _you self-serving arrogant jerk! He's dead because you…!"

Cyrene barely had a chance to get his bearings before he held up a cautionary hand. Everyone froze.

They all knew that VAMP was the callsign of the Major who had been piloting the original AIRWOLF when it had been shot down.

Hawke wanted to move to his friend's side and possibly intervene but the guards had their P90s at the ready and he wasn't that brave.

Cyrene paused and sat up. He slowly shook his head and looked at his hand. His expression was either a wince or a smile as he groaned or sighed,

"Well Nicko, I see some things never change." Santini growled in response,

"No I guess they don't, _Jason_." Cyrene frowned at the overly familiar use of his given name. To change the subject, he glanced over to where St John was slowly approaching and quipped drily,

"I guess it is in my favor that I haven't gotten on the bad side of the Hawke twins lately?"

Hawke gave him a narrow-eyed glare as if to say _the day isn't over yet_ but held his tongue. To break the oppressively pregnant pause, he did respond softly,

"Having a gun pointed at my partner is running that so-called _favor_ incredibly thin just now, Jason."

Cyrene took the hint and defused the situation for his part by gesturing for the guards to lower their weapons. He returned Hawke's stare and intoned evenly,

"That's _Special Agent Locke_ to you, Colonel. According to your profile, unlike your brother you prefer words to action. I had you all brought here to have some words about your actions earlier today. Specifically why you took it upon yourselves to go beyond the parameters of your mission to disrupt another mission. I'd expect those kind of cowboy antics from your brother but not you! It took a considerable amount of work to put that operation together and you all but destroyed it in a matter of minutes. It took me a lot of favors to get the satellite access to shut you down. Now we need to determine why you 4 are causing this trouble since this was intended as a simple training mission." Santini finally spoke up at this,

"A little _too _simple if you ask me; it was _simply familiar_ from my perspective!"


	9. Chapter 9

The trip to get to the park was uneventful. They had all changed in the Center's locker room so Kayra Lynn had leapt out of the vehicle and made a beeline for the playground equipment. This brought a quick admonishment from KC.

The former Air Force Commando had worked for Hawke Aviation since a couple months after Nick had joined. The two Commandos had worked on the same team together until Nick had left to join the war on terror. This had put KC in command of the team. When the Officer in charge of the overall project had been promoted and reassigned, the young Lieutenant had requested a transfer to a teaching post.

When Nick had asked him about it, KC had said they were now fighting a new enemy and he found himself sympathizing with their doctrinal dogma a little too much for his liking. KC had told Nick that he'd wanted to expand the training program that then-Colonel O'Neill had initiated, but instead he found himself covering the non-combat flight essentials. This was likely due to the fact that his last combat action had been when he'd been the wingman for Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell, who had been shot down during that engagement.

Knowing that the young Lieutenant was as ambitious as he was qualified, Nick had offered him a job as a Shop Manager at Hawke Aviation. He was to essentially act as Dominic Santini's Aide/Bodyguard and to keep things running smoothly in the non-clerical areas of the business. Due to the relationship he had with the elder Santini, Dominic was one of the few people who even knew Kenni Chaz was his birth name. There were also times when Nick had a need for extra pilots for a project that KC was called in.

KC was actually a bit tired on this day because he'd spent 3 18 hour days in a row working on a movie project. It was the latest in a series called _Command & Control 5: Terminal Operations_. The first had been called _C&C: Hard Corps_ and so the entire series had been nicknamed either _C&C_ or _Hard Corps _for PR purposes. It was a series co-starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bruce Willis and intended as a continuation of the _Tears Of The Sun_ saga. In fact, the first one had had the original title _TOTS2: Crying Bullets_ but the 'Crying' part did not appeal to a studio suit and he'd had it officially changed to _Sweating Bullets_ which had run afoul of the studio which had produced the TV series of the same name demanding royalties.

When Nick and KC had pointed out some glaring continuity issues, the Executive Producer had stormed off the set. This had created production issues since his contract stated that he was still to be paid full salary since he owned part of the property rights of the _TOTS_ distribution interests.

Instead of Willis being the idealistic officer doing his best to get the job done while keeping a handle on Schwarzenegger hard-charging sergeant, the roles were almost reversed in the C&C/Hard Corps series.

Nick had actually gotten his old CO to get the Air Force brass to endorse the project. This had led to some set changes as well since the project had originally had them as Army Rangers with some in-jokes meant to poke fun at the TV series _The Unit _which Nick and KC made no secret they thought the show was ludicrous and inaccurate as the _CSI_ franchise. Now that they were USAF Commandos with the support of that particular branch of the Armed Forces, the series had a new life infusion of credibility and public support.

It also meant longer working hours for Hawke Aviation and KC had to hire 2 new assistants in the past 5 years. One had been his cousin who used to work for NASA and the other had been a trainee of Caitlin's partner when she'd been a "flying meter maid". Even though it was common knowledge that Dom had recommended he hire the two females, Nick had seen to it that he was teased mercilessly about it.

There was little activity around the park as it was sparsely populated this time of day. Dom was throwing a frisbee with Kayra Lynn while KC relaxed on a bench and drank a bottled water. The wind must have caught the toy as it arced away from the little girl and landed almost at KC's feet. He picked it up and was about to toss it to her, at her insistence, when Dom stopped him,

"Hey KayLy, how about we take some pictures instead?" As his boss approached him, he noticed the man unfasten the strap on his sidearm. KC took off his jacket with the Hawke Aviation logo on the chest and did likewise. Through his sunglasses, his eyes followed the older man's micro-nod toward the vehicle on the hill overlooking the park.

When Dom had first spotted the SUV, it hadn't really caught his attention. It just seemed to be a couple of guys barbecuing on a weekday afternoon. But then he noted their movements seemed a bit too purposeful as if they were trying too hard to seem as if they were just relaxing.

He and KC took turns taking pictures from different angles. Most were actual family photos, only roughly 1/4 to 1/3 were reverse-surveillance shots.

* * *

"Yes Ma'am, we have a clear field of fire. Confirm target. No I don't believe they suspect a thing. They were tossing a frisbee around but now they are taking family pictures. Quite a contrived little scene. I can confirm that the one is armed as he adjusted the position of his sidearm when he removed his jacket. Due to the excessive movements, we no longer have a clear shot. No ma'am, they are taking pictures of each other. A couple times they have pointed the camera in our general direction but they are only interested in each other. They are packing up now, do you wish us to break cover to take the shot? Confirmed. Onto plan 'B' it is then."


	10. Chapter 10

"Well Newman just sent me a Instant Message that we only have 30 seconds of satellite time left on this call." Dom spoke softly into the oddly-shaped phone as he glanced at the flashing icon on his computer. The voice on the other end spoke for a few seconds and Santini's face became a mask of sadness for a moment as he glanced toward the nearby office. Santini sighed as he continued, "Do you have the pictures I sent? Good. Yes, Tony's kids are really enjoying their new toy. But then they are all like family to me. Your old partner has been reinstated to maintain oversight locally……now, now; that wasn't a very nice thing to say about him. Yes, that beep means we have 10 seconds left. The next time you're in the Van Nuys area look us up. Be well and be good, take care and God bless you, Alan." He quietly closed the phone and disconnected it from the FireWire port in the iBook. He then clicked off the wireless connection and shut the laptop down. Santini then slid it all into a shoulder bag and locked it. He paused as he left the old Bell JetRanger which was one of the 3 vehicles which still carried the Santini Air blazon.

It had been more than 2 decades since he'd seen his friend and the special arrangement he'd made to contact his friend while under deep-cover had taken a few favors to continue under the new rules.

When Santini was in his old 'bird' nobody bothered him so it made the perfect place to make the call. As he looked out across the runway, he saw a hint of movement. He quickly made his way to the office and put the communications equipment into his safe. He closed the safe and eased the plaque which covered it into position. It was a gift from the cast of _Command & Control_ underneath either word was a .45 semiautomatic pistol. There was a classic m1911A1 with an autographed picture of Willis along with his character's name. On the other side of the cast photo, which was signed and been decorated with a freehand title **'The Hard Corps'**, was another gun. This was a custom design based on the current top-of-the-line military issue Colt as of 3 years ago and had an autographed picture of Schwarzenegger with it.

As Santini fondly remembered the events of that day, he glanced over to the security monitor. _A figure was running toward the main hangar with a gun in each hand! _He grabbed his own gun, which was nearly identical to the one Willis had signed, and grabbed spare clips from the bottom drawer of the desk. Kayra Lynn was at the other end of the office playing an 'Endless' game of Bejeweled. Santini called out,

"Kayly, KC is up in the computer room. Would you go up there and tell him I want to see him?" She got up from her chair and started toward the stairs. She turned to see the man she called Grandpa pull his weapon from its holster and leave the office. As she turned back to the stairs, she noted that she hadn't logged out on the computer and put it in screensaver mode. She thought the Hawke Aviation logo was pretty, She liked the bird with its spread wings and the stylized H-A that looked like a helicopter in flight.

Dom didn't see her run back to the desk to close things down like she had been taught to do. He quickly strode over to his old helicopter and waited while crouched by the nose. A moment later, a punk in his early 20s with long hair strode into the hangar. In his extended hands were two Ruger 9mm pistols with extended magazines and suppressors. The punk opened fire on the office and a high-pitched scream resulted as Kayra Lynn ran from the desk as she was showered with shattered glass.

The scream threw off Santini's aim and distracted him just as he was about to blow the punk's head off. The punk broke into a run and laughed wickedly as he continued to fire and tracked his weapons to follow her as she crossed the office.

"Hey punk, try picking on someone your own size!" Santini yelled as he scooted to the back of the helicopter. It had the desired effect as the punk stopped shooting and looked around in confusion. He spotted Santini's shadow as the aging pilot passed the passenger's cabin window. The punk continued firing, this time at the Santini Air helicopter with its patriotic color theme. The punk made the mistake of continuing to fire at chest height which must have worked for him or he had seen too many movies. Santini mused the latter was the most likely as he was using the absurd 2-gun style made popular by _Tomb Raider_ and 'Woo-style' over-the-top action movies popular with greedy producers which were the bane of Santini's existence and business…no matter how good their money was and how often they requested his expertise.

Santini spotted Kayra Lynn start her way up the steps as he swung his weapon around the back of the helicopter. It wasn't until the punk swung his gun toward Santini that he realized his weapon was empty and locked open. Without thinking, he dropped the empty mag and swung the open base of the Ruger toward another stretch mag sticking out of his back pocket. It was only then that the punk realized that his other gun had bullets still in it and started to aim it at Santini.

Both guns went flying as Santini pumped 2 rounds into the punk's chest. He looked over to see Kayra Lynn climbing the stairs as fast as she could and was almost to the top when another figure entered the hangar following the 2-gun punk.

This one had shorter hair and was slightly older but was carrying an UZI similarly equipped with a suppressor. This punk was shooting from the hip and spraying the helicopter.

Santini snapped a quick shot through the shattered windows and saw with satisfaction as his bullet tugged at a loose section of the punk's jacket and sent a spare magazine flying out of the adjoining pocket. Santini realized his best move would be to dive under the helicopter and shoot from there.

As he began his move, he suddenly realized that movement he'd noted earlier came from the opposite direction than the attackers he'd been shooting at. With a shock he realized what this meant as he continued his dive toward the floor.

_SNIPER!_

A bullet whipped past his head and tore the red Santini Air cap with its stylized S-A patch from his head. There was a crash as the sniper's round struck the office's wall near the top of the stairs. There was another scream as the round went through the wall where the staircase turned 90º and Kayra Lynn was slammed against the wall and tumbled down the stairs to land at the bottom in a tiny jumbled heap.

Santini had hit the floor and rolled under the 'bird' to take a shot at the punk. He hit the punk in the gut and turned to see Kayra Lynn's still form.

"KAYLY!" Santini shouted as he started to get to his feet.

The punk landed hard and triggered his weapon accidentally. The rounds stitched an arc into the ceiling but the first round managed to strike Santini in the chest.

KC had heard the shots and was now flying down the stairs. He leapt over the railing and landed in a crouch to see Santini laying against a landing strut and a guy with an UZI trying to lift it to point it at his boss.

The former AF Commando was pretty far away for a shot with his own .45 which was similar to the one in the Schwarzenegger part of the plaque.

Fortunately, when he'd been on Nick's team, they'd been on a mission where they'd encountered an unusual substance. Once he'd come into contact with the substance, it had some odd effects on his senses by amplifying them when he focused his attention on any of them. The archaeologist on his team had told him that certain tribes in South America had this trait as well. At the time, it had helped them to defeat a megalomaniacal warlord and his armored thugs. A scientist had been able to synthesize the compound and refine it as part of a training regimen. This had become known as _TimeStalling_ and was being made available for Special Operations personnel who met certain criteria since the regimen required gene therapy.

Now, he used it to compress his sense of time and amplify his center of vision. This allowed him to aim extremely fast and accurately as he poured 3 rounds into his target's chest. KC saw a flash of light and heard an engine start. He looked across the runway and saw a dark SUV speed away.

Santini had watched as the punk's chest erupted with a roar. The punk jerked 3 times but Santini had seen only one hole. There was something very wrong. There was a fire in his own chest and he tried to breathe in but found that he could not. He heard a motor start and move away at a high rate of speed as he turned his head to face the little body at the bottom of the stairs.

_kayly…_ He thought with sadness as he laid his head against the strut. The gun in his hand was now too heavy to hold and he let go of it as his vision began to go gray and started to tunnel. He was so tired all of a sudden. He closed his eyes as a familiar voice called out his name, but he wasn't sure who it was or where. As the loss of consciousness enveloped him, he whispered,

"_**Oh God…"**_

* * *

Deleted scene:

(I'd originally written this scene to highlight the so-called 'abilities' that KC and Nick shared as a result of the ATA gene therapy they received courtesy of Stargate Command. I had also wanted to write more of the Time Trax prelude/crossover by including the TimeStalling and other talents (and perhaps biting off more than I could chew by the thin Star Trek reference…) as well as the oddity that I discovered when I 'accidentally' put in the commonality with The Sentinel and then discovered that others had done the same. The problem is that it then made them seem too 'munchkinized' in my opinion. Removing this scene made him more human and focused more on Santini as a primary character.

NOTE: I left this in rough-draft form. There are a couple inconsistencies in the narration and a continuity error. I decided to have some fun with the telling of the story when I started to assemble my notes on this scene and then realized it didn't work for me with the overall tone of the chapter/story. The reader may consider the following events apocryphal at your own discretion. I wanted this story to focus more on the characters than the action so I opted to delete this although it was originally intended to be a genuine part of the story.)

Out of the corner of his eye, KC had spotted some movement at the far end of the runway. On instinct, he began running toward the source. His adrenaline was running full bore now. It was eerie for him since he already had a predilection toward the sequencing that was achieved by the gene therapy which was part of the training regimen he and Nick had gone through. His only limitation was the physical capacity of his own natural body which acted as a firewall. He stretched his legs and literally cleared 1/4 of the distance in a matter of seconds. When he'd been tested, he'd completed the mile in 2:42 which had been 7 seconds faster than Nick. Everything was happening in slow motion to him. KC saw another movement followed by a blooming flash of light. He involuntarily flinched which caused his torso to lean a foot to one side. He saw the bullet fly past his head, the heat of the projectile stung his ear. The perceived time compression made it seem as though the round was over a foot long. There was a shout and a figure stood up from where the rifle shot had come from. Another figure stepped out from a nearby vehicle. Both began firing at him. He could tell from the sound that both were using 9mm weapons. The one who had been firing the sniper rifle was crouched and firing a pistol while the one who had just exited the vehicle was firing some sort of subgun in short bursts. He saw where the first shots went and veered slightly to his right since most subguns tended to climb up and to the right due to the recoil from the ejection port. At this range, the pistol didn't concern him. Dr Singh, one of the early program subjects and founders had accurately described the sensation KC was feeling as _swimming downstream in a river of adrenaline._ The doctor had left the program early as he found the oversight on the program 'too restrictive' and felt that many of his peers were intimidated by his achievements. KC's best-kept secret was that he did not leave the Air Force because he was beginning to sympathize with an enemy, but rather that he found the doctor's _cult of personality_ to be as beguiling as it was fascinating. KC knew that a little ambition was a good thing but the doctor's views could have been labeled seditious by some. He continued to hold his fire as he closed the distance by literal bounds. To prevent the guy with the subgun from getting lucky, KC let fly 2 rounds. Without thinking, he calculated. _5 left_. His target ducked and reloaded. The guy with the pistol decided to make a run for the vehicle and continued firing as he went. KC felt the sting of a round graze his thigh as a round from the pistol scored. KC pumped out 4 more rounds as he reached for a spare mag. He ejected the empty mag and it had barely cleared the weapon when he inserted a fresh one. Unlike moronic scenes from Hollywood where the hero always let his ammo fly until his slide locked open, true shooters always left one in the barrel even if that meant reloading with a couple still in the clip. KC had carefully counted and his training as part of the program had left him with a subconscious talent to count his rounds which is why he'd reloaded after firing 9. He continued to fire and the pistol man staggered. The other figure stopped firing and dragged the wounded sniper to the vehicle. KC tracked his firing to the vehicle. Even though it was well after dark and there was only a crescent moon in the sky, KC's eyes could still see as though it was dusk. Even though he could not make out much of the features of the men, he noted as much as he could about the vehicle his bullets were now smashing into. He didn't bother shooting at the tires since once they started to spin they were actually difficult to damage. Even with the SUV speeding away from him, KC got within 10 feet of the vehicle. The former commando guessed that his next thought came from working with Schwartzeneggar, but he reminded himself of the scene from _TERMINATOR 2_ when the T2000 was chasing the escaping vehicle on foot. KC found himself with an interesting conundrum. Should he make the effort and dive through the shattered rear window to take the attackers down? Or, having neutralized the attack, should he see to his employer's welfare? He quickly calculated that he had 3 rounds left in his current magazine and one more magazine after that. Despite his off-the-chart adrenaline rush, common sense prevailed. He came to an abrupt halt and did an about-face. He began his jog back to Hawke Aviation. When he paused to pick up his dropped clip, he took note of his physical condition. His pulse had increased and his blood pressure was elevated but he hadn't broken a sweat. Judging from the look of his pants, the bullet had dug a deep furrow an easy 4 inches above his knee. There was an entry and exit hole in his pants but the blood stain connected the two holes and ran all the way down to halfway between his knee and his ankle. The stain was about 2 inches wide and almost a foot and a half long. When he got close enough to the lights to see his leg through one of the holes, he was assured his healing factor was performing nicely. For all the blood he'd seemed to have lost, he now only appeared to have a flesh wound. The police had already arrived but if he was lucky, he could get to his spare clothes before they finished clearing the building. He didn't want to explain all that fresh blood without a corresponding injury.


	11. Chapter 11

"Now there's several hours of my life that I'll never get back." Nick sighed from the passenger seat of the Humvee.

For the return trip, St John was driving. They were only about 10 minutes from their destination and they were all ready for some quiet time. There had been only one bit of news which had come about.

Santini and Hawke had known that they were only in this project for a long-term training assignment. They had just found out that the permanent assignments were going to be handed out in about a week, with each team assigned to a different region of the world.

Korolyshyn had gotten the only laugh of the trip when he'd quoted the _Ecklie_ character from _CSI_ when he'd accurately described their common experience during the debriefing as _"more fun than the proctologist, less fun than the dentist" _he'd then gone on to add "having been to a Russian dentist, that's not saying much…" in his thick accent. The rest of the ride had been uneventful and quiet. To make conversation, Hawke asked Aziz,

"Pardon my naïveté, but I find it unusual for a Muslim to be so passionately pro-West. What got you to pursue such a unique agenda? Aside from the fact that the U.S. is letting you play with their toys." Aziz laughed and rolled his eyes. He shook his head and smiled,

"Just don't let my sister hear you say that. She has done some work for the Mujahadeen and makes no bones about the fact that she has sympathies for certain agendas which could tend to seem contrary to the interests of the State Department. It was a bear to pass the integrity tests when they kept _straining the gnat _about my relationship with her. I love her dearly but I think she's an idiot. As far as your question. _Allah yibarik elwilayal el moutt America_. Which is to say 'God bless the United States of America'." The other three intoned _AMEN_ in response.

They were about to clear the security checkpoint when something struck the Humvee. Hard. The vehicle was rocked and for an instant it felt like it was on fire. Aziz called out,

"RPG!" The weapon had gone through the Humvee without detonating. Santini announced,

"We got lucky since this thing wasn't armored. Get moving before they decide to try a shot at the back bumper. Arash, you'd better break out the PDWs." Hawke slammed the accelerator down right as another RPG slammed into the checkpoint. As the Muslim pilot turned to grab the weapons, he announced,

"Incoming!" Santini barked,

"Head for the main entrance. If we keep going toward the matériel area, we'll be an easier target." The only drawback to his suggestion was that it meant that Hawke was to continue along the same direction as the approaching RPG. He came to the turn and kept going straight. Hawke called out,

"Hang on everyone, its gonna get bumpy!"

They sped up a low hill and hit the crest just as the RPG struck the ground just over a meter behind them. The impact sent them flying. They landed hard and Hawke suddenly found the vehicle almost impossible to control. He shouted,

"Bailout!" Santini gave him an incredulous look and replied,

"What, and face the wrath of Caitlin? I don't think so! Remember she's a certified Distinguished Expert shot and a Federal firearms instructor. I got places on me that I do not want to have become the recipient of an errant warning shot." Hawke was about to concur the wisdom of his friend's sentiment but never got the chance as their travel came to an abrupt halt.

A restraining barrier hidden by the sand caught their front axle at an angle and spun them around. The cleft in the ground behind the barrier swallowed the rear of the Humvee and left the twisted frame sitting nose up and an odd angle. The four men now had no choice but to bail out. They poured out of the vehicle, two of them seemingly involuntarily. They continued on their trek to the front door as scattered AK-47 fire erupted from the direction of the now destroyed checkpoint. As autofire began to kick up the ground around them, they all dove for cover behind a barricade. The rounds began to ricochet off the barricade and St John ordered,

"See if any of the SKYSHARKs are ready to go. I'll provide cover." Santini hazarded a quick look around the barricade to see a line of attackers approaching the facility. He laughed incredulously,

"I think _we'll_ be providing cover if I have anything to say about it and since I do, well guess what?"

Aziz and Korolyshyn took the hint and made for the doors at a low run.

Santini was a certified Sharpshooter with the H&K MP7 while Hawke was just barely a Marksman 1st Class with the PDW class in general. They managed to acquit themselves over the next few minutes despite being limited to 20-round clips.

That is, until a small group setup a light machine gun directly in front of them. The heavier rounds were definitely making their impact on the barricade. When they tried to risk firing back, they were showered with fist-sized chunks of concrete. They were debating the wisdom of running for it when they heard a sound from behind them which punctuated the scattered sound of autofire,

_**BOOM!**_

The machine gun came to an abrupt halt. The men spun around to see Caitlin taking careful aim with her old Ruger .357 Magnum revolver. Santini admired,

"She takes on a belt-fed LMG with a six-shot handgun and wins." Hawke grinned,

"Don't forget, she still has ammo left to spare. And I'm married to her!"

"I don't know whether to feel sorry for you, jealous or impressed." Santini smiled.

Several Zebra team commandos joined them behind the barricade and began firing their P90 subguns at the advancing line of attackers. Since Hawke was down to his last magazine, he switched to his .45 and ran to the barricade where his wife had taken position. Santini was only a few steps behind and dove behind the barricade just in time to catch the two greeting each other with a kiss. Santini quipped,

"If I knew that kind of greeting was coming to the first person to join her back here, I'd have volunteered sooner." Caitlin giggled and wrinkled her nose at him. They gave each other an exaggerated kiss on both cheeks. She then stuck her revolver into her belt, drew her .45 from its drop-holster on her thigh and said,

"The entrance near the arboretum has been breached. As soon as the Zebra team here clears the front, they are going to seal the entrance. Right now they are deployed to 5 locations within the campus. I think it would be a good idea for you guys to see if you can get to your SKYSHARK." The group quickly made their way to the arboretum where they found the entrance being watched by Johnston.

The pilot had a .45 in each hand and he used the muzzle of one of them to tap the brim of his cowboy hat as they arrived. He was a Deputy US Marshall who patrolled the Southwestern US in a department helicopter. DUKE was not just a play on his name, but was also a reflection of the fact that his father owned one of the largest ranches in the region and was respectfully called 'King' by his employees and business associates. Santini asked,

"How have things been going Wayne?" The dark skinned man replied in his thick southern twang,

"Well Nicky anyone who wants to dance with me, I got a couple .45s I play for them. You folks haven't spotted Gravis around have you?" Caitlin noted that she'd seen Newman about an hour ago when he'd headed toward the residential area.

The Weapons Technician was the son of Locke's boss and made a point of keeping himself apprised of all aspects of the SKYSHARK's technical data. Earlier that day, the satellite hotlink had gone down for 15 minutes and everyone had blamed the Technician for downloading massive amounts of data to the terminal he was using. This despite the fact that during that time even Newman could not access the satellite. He had asked Archangel for help and the white garbed spy had been unsuccessful as well. Coldsmith-Briggs had done some checking on a hunch and confirmed that the diverted signal had been sourced from a specific area of California. The one-eyed spy had then input his master keycode and deleted the entire transaction. While chatting with Mrs Hawke in the common area, he'd let it be known that the satellite interruption had been his responsibility. He'd then told Newman that he might want to take the rest of the day off from his studies and get some rest. That had been the last she'd seen him. Johnston concluded,

"Then that means he's likely in the living area where our attackers seem to be headed." St John started to lead them in the massive garden area but the Arizona native was several steps ahead of him.

When they'd first met, Caitlin had almost slipped that she'd been through the area near King's land. The land in question abutted the Grand Canyon National Park and all of the original AIRWOLF's crew had been near that locale en route to the secret lair in Utah.

There had been about a dozen times when Hollywood had nearly jeopardized the location with their cameras, including the filming of _Forrest Gump_ and _MacGyver_ along with numerous Westerns.

In an odd bit of irony, Johnston had met his inverse namesake during some post-production filming. Young Wayne had been wrangling some horses and the film legend had asked him if he wanted to be background filler. The star was surprised to find that not only was he the son of the man who owned the land but he was also named after the actor. When it had been verified that both were indeed true, the Academy Award winner had proclaimed the young man to be a true-to-life _Duke_.

There was some skepticism about this story but Santini had declared that most apocryphal stories had to have some grain of truth to them, so he was inclined to take his colleague at his word.

They were now about halfway across the arboretum and gunfire erupted from 3 different directions. Johnston raised his guns and dispatched 3 attackers before diving for cover. Santini bellowed,

"SCATTER!" There was little cover so staying on the move was the best defense. Making for separate targets was also a tactical measure. They were surrounded and fighting their way out was the best recourse. It was not the first time they had been in a situation like this and this was not the most dangerous situation they had been in.

Something about this scenario stunk to Santini. Not only did his debriefing earlier lead him to suspect that they were evaluating the SKYSHARK in comparison to the identical mission he'd undertaken in AIRWOLF, but this attack was too one-sided.

The attackers knew where and how to hit to cut right through the defenses.

It was as if they had inside information.

* * *

This chapter technically concludes Operation: SKYSHARK. I wanted the various cliffhangers in place before I brought out any conclusions in following storylines. Fear not, devoted readers, SKYSHARK Down! is soon forthcoming in the pages to follow.


	12. Chapter 12 SKYSHARK Down! intro

Note: this chapter is a diversion for me. I wanted to write something first-person. I also wanted to bring in a traitor and put a different perspective on events.

This chapter also acts as an intro to the story SKYSHARK DOWN! as the previous couple chapters all have cliffhangers in them. I was going to have this as a separate story but decided to simply extend the original story of Operation: SKYSHARK instead.

* * *

I knew what I had to do. My employer was motivated by vengeance but I'd made a promise and intended to keep it. I didn't really care about the money.

I had lost track of the target earlier that day, but that had since been corrected. His death would be key that brought down the whole deck of cards. The fact that the distraction had been ill-timed was an inconvenience.

I crouched as I made my way across the arboretum. A target of opportunity presented herself and I took careful aim. I didn't have a clean shot due to the bush she was behind so I moved while keeping my weapon aimed at the back of her head. I noted that my employer's allies were approaching from the other direction so I opted not to stand lest an errant shot get too close. I had to adjust my aim as she came up slightly from her own crouch to shoot another intruder.

I frowned inside as the attackers were being cut down too quickly for my taste. They were there to help me get the job done, but their performance could be could be considered somewhere between _fair _to _poor_. They were insisting on using an ineffective technique called _run and gun, spray and pray_ which relied on superior numbers and blind luck rather than training.

Unfortunately, those who contracted with the US Government, for all its varied faults, managed to hold their own due to the training they were provided.

Sometimes it took someone who had taken that same training to hand out the proper wake-up call. That is the reason I'd agreed to take this job. With the suppressor attached to my weapon, she'd never hear the shot that killed her.

I squeezed the trigger.

My aim was thrown off as an AK-47 started chewing into a tree next to the bush she was behind and she literally disappeared behind a cloud of bark.

She rolled to one side and took off at a run toward the door to the living area. Despite the fact that she was moving at an angle. I fired off three shots as she approached the door. The third round drilled into the door just as she disappeared behind it. With that angle and the comparative differences between the power of my weapon and the construction of the door, I satisfied myself that I had found my target and would confirm that later for my employer.

Due to the dim light, I nearly did not see my primary target dart across a path about 10 meters to my right. If it hadn't been for the muzzle flashes of two Kalashnikovs, I wouldn't have noticed him at all.

The rattle of autofire was then punctuated by a series of sharp barks from his pistol and then he too ran through the cover for one of the 4 doors along the wall.

I saw which door he was heading for and I just happened to be closer. I moved to where I had a clear, unobstructed view and waited as I heard the sound of approaching footfalls which paused on occasion to return fire. As he reached the door, I lined up my shot.

He spotted me and must have realized my intent since he faltered for a split-second which caused my first shot to miss since I had been leading the shot and anticipating for him to continue moving. I fired again as he dove through the door.

Sure that I'd missed, I took chase as I reloaded. I was only seconds behind as I followed through the door. I noted that I hadn't actually missed as there was blood spatter on the wall and his gun was on the floor but had been rendered useless by my bullet. I stared down the hall to see if I could spot where the second door from this one was but the light was too dim too see a body on the floor. I continued my pursuit.

He wasn't headed for the living area, he was making his way to the hangar area. This suited me just fine as that was my eventual destination anyway. I quickened my pace and when I caught up to him he was holding his bloody side.

He had made it to one of the armories just outside the hangar. Due to the battle, there was no guard on duty which suited me just fine. He grabbed a weapon and tried in vain to load it since the magazine he'd grabbed was the wrong one. He dropped that clip and reached for the correct one when I finally got close enough, the suppressor of my weapon being literally in his face dissuaded him from further action.

I was almost impressed in there was no fear or actually any other emotion. He looked and me and asked me one word

_Why?_

"I'm just a man doing a job." He said something under his breath and started to say something else but I really did not want to waste any more time or give him a chance to try and talk his way out like some cheesy Hollywood movie. I cut him off by saying,

"Time to make your peace with God." I shot him twice and he fell. Whether he was trying to escape or anticipating, he seemed to start to turn into his fall the instant I pulled the trigger. He wasn't breathing and his pulse was thready.

Remembering something I'd seen in a Klingon segment of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_, I stepped forward and placed my foot on the bloody hole in his chest. Nothing. I leaned over and murmured in his ear,

"Nothing personal, just business." I quickly made my way over to the hangar. I confirmed for my Weapons Tech the task had indeed been carried out. He grinned widely, since he was in it for the money and this meant a bigger paycheck. As I got in our SKYSHARK, he announced,

"We have one small problem due to a certain someone's antics earlier. The ZAT system has been removed. Fortunately while they had us open, I short-circuited the board that provides for the satellite link and command override. We have also been completely rearmed." I laughed drily,

"We'll likely be alone in this venture. It looks like the other pilots which were hired to snatch some of the other SKYSHARKs never got past the arboretum. Prep us for takeoff and activate all the masking properties. I don't want…" I stopped short as one of our problems solved itself when an explosion destroyed one of the hangar doors. I released a self-satisfied sigh as about a dozen Kalashnikov-toting men poured through the burning hole.

They were all running sideways and firing behind them. A third of them didn't make it even a handful of meters before they were cut down.

_Those idiots! _

I marveled at how stupid some people got when they were handed a gun and suddenly thought they were 'professionals' after firing just a few shots and hitting a nonmoving target. I switched on the intercom and advised,

"Stay away from the entrance. Keep to the walls." The two in the lead faced me with a surprised look and concentrated their fire on the SKYSHARK.

Only three of them took my advice. I opted not to return fire on those firing at me as I decided it was a waste of ammunition.

I watched with detached humor as the fact that the shooters were facing me simply resulted in them being shot in the back rather than the front.

Out of the half of them that were still in the fight, I debated placing a bet with my Tech to see how many would actually make it to another SKYSHARK. Two of them actually made it and a third followed one of the others. The other three were more interested in fighting than getting to another helicopter. He guessed that the two which had actually made it to the SKYSHARKs were the two which had experience piloting HIND helicopters. The rest were mostly trainees or did not have combat experience.

My WT helped the two start up the SKYSHARKs while the third one kept insisting on entering with his friend. Finally an errant round grazed his side and he decided it was better to follow his assigned orders than to debate his friend. I rolled my eyes and muttered "Finally!" under my breath. To my WT I instructed,

"Those other three are not going to stop playing hotshot with their guns long enough to get to another SKYSHARK in time. Abandon them. Help the others get airborn. We need to get out of here now before they figure out what's going on. We've been here too long as it is." The voice behind me responded,

"The other three SKYSHARKs are powered up and ready to go. They are taking off now. Too bad we can't simply use the remote system, but then we don't want that system lighting up our flight path." I watched as three helicopters headed to the exit.

I then noticed something odd. Not only had the ZAT system been removed but none of them had a drone attached. I shrugged and shook my head with the realization that my employer was going to be disappointed.

As we neared the exit, there was a loud _**POP**_ and the whole craft shuddered as my WT sent an EMP aimed back into the hangar. That should slow down anyone who tried to follow us in another SKYSHARK.

All 4 went dark as we left the hangar and literally disappeared against the late evening sky. As we climbed into the darkness, not one shot targeted us. To add to my satisfaction, the voice behind me chimed in,

"Now to let our allies know it is time to back off and ensure that no unfriendlies get any ideas contrary to our progress." I turned on the reverse angle image in my helmet's display and smiled in satisfaction as a series of explosions rocked the facility behind us.

Things were going fine with the flight for the first 15 minutes until the third SKYSHARK started to waver. Going against my better judgment and the mission parameters, I tried to contact the pilot but there was no response. I remembered that he'd been grazed by a bullet as I watched the helicopter continue to waver and start to veer off course. _This is not good. _I couldn't ask the man behind me to turn on the active scanners since they had yet to be recalibrated so that what was being scanned did not show up as a spotlight back at the facility. I could not be certain that the facility's systems were still up and running but I also could not take the chance.

It left me with a conundrum that I actually considered interesting for a brief moment. That is, until I watched the SKYSHARK very suddenly and abruptly veered off and seemed to fall from the sky. My last view of the helicopter was of it autorotating wildly as it flipped onto its side while drifting off in an arc which carried it from our flight path at slightly over 45+º angle. Well it couldn't be helped. A quick idea popped up in my mind and I asked my WT to send a burst remote command to the helicopter's control system. It took him almost the full 2 minutes for the SKYSHARK to hit the ground for him to setup the unique set of commands as well to transmit them. There was no explosion which meant there was a good chance my plan would work.

We landed just under an hour later. I quickly detailed the events as they happened to my employer's assistant. She was quite pretty which made the reporting all that much more interesting. She was a dark, intense beauty whose raven hair and obsidian eyes were in direct contrast to her _peaches and cream_ skin. She was the niece of my employer and was practically a dead ringer for her boss/aunt despite nearly a decade's difference between their ages. Despite her easy smile she was all business. Behind that deceptively pleasant smile was a brilliant and dangerous mind. She was as intelligent and cunning as her mentor after whom she patterned her life. Whether or not she was satisfied with my report or my accomplishment, I figured I'd never know and I was likely better off that way. She checked out the 3 SKYSHARKS as my partner made some adjustments to the WT terminals as well as the aft external access panels on all of them. When I had finished detailing my plan concerning the fourth SKYSHARK which had been lost, she smiled and thanked me. My Tech came up and informed me,

"Well boss I've earned my paycheck today. I checked the buffers on the remote detectors and there were no tracking or remote command codes in them. I purged all the data caches and reset them to the command transponders that we are using. I also updated our encryption security ID protocols. We can now use our systems without concern of having them being tracked. We'll be able to use the real time interlink capabilities as soon as I finish writing the algorithms necessary for the local equipment. It will only take me a few hours but I recommend we take them offline for a few hours while I download the core to our control and monitoring banks. This way, we'll be able to access our benefactor's satellite linkup seamlessly." I thanked him and let him know I appreciated the great work he'd done and how much it meant to our agenda.

Mere platitudes of course, but a good leader always treats his subordinates the way he wants to be treated. In my case my life could depend on it since I was putting my life in his hands.

That perceived trust was not lost on him. Despite the fact that he made no secret that he was in it for the money, he still attempted to make himself seem as though he was taking part in the greater good. It worked for him and helped to make him reliable. We were all professionals after a fashion.

When he asked me why I was doing it, I told him to go watch the movie _The Hunt for Red October_ and to think of me as the Connery/Ramius character. I considered myself a true patriot, shaking a sleeping giant out of its sense of arrogant complacency. After all there was an ancient saying which declared that 'the difference between a general and a terrorist is the placement of a single bullet–usually the final one'. With the SKYSHARK, I intended to be behind the trigger of that bullet.

I ate dinner and went to bed, tomorrow was going to be an early day and I was looking forward to executing my plan. With a self-satisfied smile, I anticipated it going as smoothly as as did removing the target of opportunity who had conveniently presented himself.

I was unable to confirm the status of the female target for my employer's assistant so she considered it a non-event even though I was convinced I had scored. It didn't matter anyway. In the off-chance I had not scored, her day would come. Perhaps tomorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

"Is he going to live? What is the prognosis?" Oney asked as the doctor left the surgical area. The surgeon reported that the patient was stabilized for the moment but had yet to regain consciousness. A voice behind him spoke up in appreciation of his concern. Korolyshyn stood there. Since the Ukrainian was an easy 6 inches taller than the other man, Korolyshyn found himself thanking the man's _yarmulke_ in the moment before he turned around.

The med-bay had become an impromptu meeting area after the attack. There were 28 wounded, 4 of them critically. The 6 who had been killed were all Zebra team members.

Archangel had immediately put out a call for assistance and within an hour nearly a dozen teams from nearby Army and Air Force installations responded in their own vehicles.

It took very little convincing on Santini's part for the Zebra team commander to let him have a security rig and FN P90. After a couple hours of doing a thorough security sweep, he made his way back to the meeting area. As he entered the area someone in the room asked,

"How goes it Nicky? Any news updates at all? What's our status?" Santini sighed and replied,

"We've uncovered 3 more SKYSHARKs. It is a mess down there. Unfortunately, the on-board systems have been completely wiped and must be reloaded from the remote backup. I checked my own board and all the learning committed by the AI is gone. The one strange thing is that we are getting an intermittent signal which appears to be a location transponder from a SKYSHARK located about 800 kilometers from here. We don't know yet which one it is and we will be able to go check it out once we get one of the others up which be around dawn. We still have over a dozen personnel unaccounted for. We still have no idea why the attackers abruptly broke off their assault following the explosions. I agree with Archangel that we should keep all suppositions to ourselves. Making wild guesses about unconfirmed rumors doesn't do anybody any good. The good news is that I've had absolutely no satisfaction by blowing away any bad guys during my sweep." That resulted in a round of light laughter. Santini spotted one of the surgeons approach Archangel so he strode over to see what was going on. He was halfway across the room when he heard the words _"We've got a problem…"_ as he focused to hear what was being said. It piqued his interest and he continued to listen in as he approached. He came to a stop next to Coldsmith-Briggs and leaned his free elbow up against the one-eyed spy's shoulder. Santini asked blithely,

"What seems to be the problem gentlemen?" Archangel gave him a withering glare and the normally unflappable Santini smiled awkwardly as he slowly removed his elbow.

The white-garbed program director knew that the former pilot had been part of a USAF program called Stargate and been part of an experimental gene-therapy regimen which had enhanced his senses. He had a respect for the accomplishments of his recruiter's adopted nephew, but he still demanded a sense of decorum from all those under his authority. Even the sons of his happy-go-lucky ex-partner were not above this requirement even though he secretly thought of them as family. This was the reason why, even though the Hawke brothers broke the rules by force of habit on a regular basis, he always made accommodations for them and their extended family. There were just some personal lines he was simply unwilling to cross.

The doctor's eyes narrowed as they went from Archangel to Santini. Knowing the testosterone-fest which was about to play out, Archangel grinned as he intoned,

"Gentlemen, I do believe it would serve the current situation best if we would get back to the job at hand. This means discussing the _problem_ rather than having me referee a contest between an Army Ranger who is an adrenaline junkie and a genetically-enhanced AF Commando PJ who has a submachinegun loaded with armor-piercing rounds clipped to his uniform. Being that both of you are Lieutenant Colonels, I'm tempted to sell tickets to the ensuing distraction. But I think this facility has endured enough mayhem for one day." The doctor's eyes widened and they snapped back to Archangel at the mention of the words _genetically-enhanced_ and he then mouthed the words as he slowly looked back to Santini. Santini shrugged and laughed,

"Welcome to the CIA, my friend. Back to the business at hand. What is the problem that was being referred to?" The doctor frowned tightly as he realized his career with the Rangers was over due to the revelation of the Classified information. His skills would now be put to use in a different theater of the War on Terrorism and he was trying to determine how he felt about this given that he was, as the Agent in front of him had so accurately profiled, an adrenaline junkie. Archangel began,

"It seems that there is an unusual coincidence between the rounds that struck Caitlin and Arash." The doctor spoke up evenly at this point by continuing Archangel's line of thought, "They are both pistol rounds. Medium caliber, semijacketed, and a good likelihood that a suppressor was used. Not a very common combination for me lately. But it was sufficient to drill through the door to strike the female. It was also very difficult to reconstruct a complete round after digging them out of the male. They both need their rest and some time to be monitored before I progress further." The surgeon did a quick about-face and reentered the triage area to get to work on his next patient.

Santini checked his weapon and followed Archangel as he walked through the room interacting with some of those who were making eye contact with him. To one he expressed appreciation, to another encouragement. He made small talk as he wound his way through the room for about a half an hour or so. By that time, most of those in the room had dispersed from the large busy crowd into small quiet groups. Many of them had found chairs and fallen asleep. Some others had taken advantage of juice and sandwiches being delivered.

Santini completed one more sweep before meeting up with St John who had fallen asleep after helping to police the hangar. Hawke yawned while looking over at his sleeping wife's bandaged head,

"We still can't account for 4 of the SKYSHARKs. We have found 3 more people while digging through the rubble. You'll have to ask the docs how they're doing though." Santini unclipped his P90 and set it on the floor next to the desk as he logged into the computer.

"We are definitely picking up a SARSAT locator beacon from a SKYSHARK. It is unit 9 assigned to SPASM and ORGANIC. Which is Hicks and Atoll, but since Atoll is still unconscious and Hicks has been helping us with the hangar it is unlikely they had anything to with this signal. We have one SKYSHARK ready to go but we'll have to wait until dawn to go check it out." Santini narrated tiredly. At Hawke's insistence he went and got some sleep. Five hours later found them all enjoying breakfast in the cafeteria. Archangel spoke,

"We have SKYSHARK 2 up and running. Korolyshyn's Engineer's console is fine but the piloting adaptive interface is blank. Unfortunately we had only started the backup so it is incomplete and therefore useless. We just found the tail for SKYSHARK 1 and it has a complete backup so once it is cleared mechanically, it will be ready to go. We need to check out that signal ASAP so I want ideas." There were some mumblings about using another pilot with Korolyshyn, but it would still take a few hours to put the adaptive interface through its calibration sequence.

Another voice piped up at this which surprised everyone. Caitlin Hawke looked very different with the bandage on the side of her head from where a bullet had grazed her. She had also had her strawberry-blonde hair cut much shorter so that her scalp could be stitched up. Originally her hair had gone about a third down her back but now it was short enough that she had been mistaken for Colonel Carter from behind when she'd entered the room. When she spoke her voice started out a bit shaky but it quickly got stronger,

"Calibration may not be as big a problem as you might think, gentlemen. I've been acting as _Op-For_ in the simulator for over a week and I had to set up the interface for my own use. Since Johnny and I…excuse me, Colonel Hawke and I fly together all the time and he taught me almost all I know about combat aviation. Whatever segments aren't in the sim's database can be applied or grafted from his." Concerned about his wife's well-being, St John replied while tightening his brows,

"Now I don't want to…" He stopped short and his eyebrows rose abruptly as a thought occurred to him. It was so abrupt that Santini actually looked to the top of his head to see if a light bulb popped up and turned on. Hawke continued, "It may not be the best solution but it is most likely the only solution as far as I can see. We don't have Unit 01 clear of débris just yet, far from it in fact, but we can still access all the necessary ports if we need to do a direct site-to-site transfer. What do you think Nicko?" Santini chewed his bottom lip in thought for a moment. He sighed and said,

"Once we get the transfer setup, it will take about 10 minutes. I'm guessing the setup will take about an hour at least. That is once we clear off all the stuff that is piled on our Lady." Santini's timeline proved to be a conservative estimate.

It took the better part of half an hour to get the building materials off the helicopter to the point that Santini could climb in. It took him another 5 minutes to link up to the simulator. The Hawkes had already run a dedicated hardline to SKYSHARK 2 from the simulator and Korolyshyn was ready to debug the transfer. With all of them working together, it took about 45 minutes (even though the phrase _'or so…'_ got uttered at least a dozen times during that segment of the process) to set up the peripheral algorithms not covered by the simulator's database. Santini was dead on about how long it would take to transfer the information from the simulator. It took another 20 minutes to debug it all. By the time they were all comfortable with the results, dawn had already begun to break.

Korolyshyn left his Weap-Tech station only long enough to change into his blue-grey flightsuit. Caitlin went to the living quarters to get hers. She was just starting to pull on her boots when St John eased into the room. He quietly helped her put her boots on and then held her hands for a moment before speaking,

"I know you've flown AIRWOLF before, but that was a long time ago and this is a bit different. There is a good chance this is a trap." He paused as if considering his next words. She interrupted him with a kiss. She replied softly with an easy grin,

"Oh honey, we've been through this all before. Mr K and I'll be just fine. At the first sign of trouble I'll waggle my finger at the bad guys and give them a dirty look like my mother always used to with me and my brothers. But seriously, just think of it as a Recon mission with me flying the most heavily-armed swiss army knife in existence." That got a laugh out of her husband and the two embraced for a moment. He turned his head to return the kiss and they stayed in that moment until there was a soft knock at the door. The door opened to reveal Santini and Archangel. Coldsmith-Briggs spoke up evenly,

"We've been waiting for 10-15 minutes for you to take off. What's been keeping you?" Since the Hawkes were holding hands, Caitlin inclined her neck to wink at her husband and giggled coquettishly,

"Oh, nothing." Halfway through the word _nothing_, Santini commented,

"Knowing those two, maybe that's not the right question to ask." Noting Archangel suddenly blush uncharacteristically, Santini shook his head and frowned,

"Ew…" He then sighed, "Perhaps that wasn't the right way to phrase that. Now there's one image I don't want in my head this close after breakfast!" Caitlin took this opportunity to tease him,

"Don't give me that! You've kissed a girl before. You even told me you once kissed your adopted sister." The revelation elicited surprise from the other two men present.

"WHAT?" St John laughed.

"You kissed Jo?" Archangel grinned. Santini started to reply without thinking,

"I told you, I thought…she…was…you…" His voice trailed off as he realized not everyone was privy to his embarrassing secret. Both he and Archangel looked at St John to gauge his reaction about the information concerning the woman he loved. He looked at her and shrugged,

"Oh yeah. That's what started the European cheek-kiss thing you do. Careful or you'll make C-B here jealous. Why is it that everyone is in love with my wife?" It was Caitlin's turn to shrug as she pointed out,

"Except for your brother." Her husband nodded,

"Well his loss is my gain, hot stuff." The other two men didn't press for information, but St John informed them anyway,

"When String told me that he had a condition of his returning to active service that I had to agree to, I thought he was going to propose and ask me to be his best man. Cait and I discussed it we were both OK with whatever came about since we were pursuing a quiet relationship but she had feelings for him from working with him and believed the feelings were mutual. I hadn't actually thought about marrying her until that conversation. It all worked out since she told me that she would say _yes_ no matter which one of us asked her first. And the rest is history." They were now next to SKYSHARK and Korolyshyn handed her a helmet. She glanced at the nameplate and smiled, her old callsign MAIDEN was engraved into the surface. Minutes later, she had said her goodbyes and climbed into the helicopter. Archangel spoke up,

"It goes without saying that this is a recon mission. Get in there, do your scans and get back. Once we have more info, we'll proceed more appropriately. SKYSHARK 01 will be ready within the hour but we need to get some idea of what we are facing ASAP."


	14. Chapter 14

"How is the signal track coming along?" MAIDEN requested as they crossed the midway point on the locator segment of the helmet's display. GROUPIE responded,

"Still only receiving the satellite link. Reading some sort of magnetic trace which is broad spectrum enough that it may be interfering with the sensors. I have two options. I can reverse the magnetic polarity of SKYSHARK so that the range will be able to be read or reprogram the filters once we get close enough to the target." Once they got to the 5 kilometer point, MAIDEN came to a halt and maintained position.

Within moments, GROUPIE indicated he'd reprogrammed the filters but they still weren't getting enough detail to confirm what they were looking at. He indicated he was going to commit the polarity inversion but it would take a few seconds. MAIDEN thought aloud as she waited,

"To get this level of interference, it would require a nuclear blast or someone overloading the controller system of the SKYSHARK." GROUPIE agreed and indicated he was now getting preliminary scans of the target area. It was indeed a missing SKYSHARK but something was strange about it. He paused and indicated that part of the problem might be their own systems being misaligned. When she asked why he replied,

"We seem to have a ghost image on the detectors. It happens when using high-impact sensors in a target-rich environment. We get a return off our own signal if there are any naturally occurring frequencies to confuse the system." MAIDEN indicated she was going to go for a closer sweep.

The SKYSHARK was well-designed, it almost reminded her of the way AIRWOLF had handled. It had a smoothness and fluidity that felt like it was an extension of her own self. She eased SKYSHARK forward and suddenly the Internal Helmet Augmented Display Simplified Sight cleared up as the long-range scanners calibrated off the short-range sensors. GROUPIE announced,

"Commencing upload, this info is interesting." _Interesting?_ MAIDEN mused that was an understatement. There was one figure near the crash site and it was not wearing anything resembling the official flight suit.

Her helmet's overlay also seemed to contradict her visual information since the transponder ID did not match the Unit number printed on the hull of the craft. From behind her GROUPIE spoke up,

"This is strange, our ghost is now acting independent of us. It is approaching at 5 o'clock high." The words had barely registered on her ears when MAIDEN instinctively hauled the controls over and hit the Impellers.

This act saved their lives as the missile deflected off their ventral surface before exploding. Despite still being activated, the Impellers cut out. She could hear as GROUPIE furiously worked controls while various klaxons and alarms blared insistently around him.

She tried sending out a mayday distress call but he told her the transmitter was likely out. It was all she could do to evade their attacker. One of the 3 blades for the main rotor must have been damaged as SKYSHARK was feeling off-balance and it was becoming more and more of a struggle to maintain altitude. Above the noise filling the cabin MAIDEN called out,

"How long until you get us patched up? I can't hold this dance off too much longer."

"I don't know if I even can. We are pretty smashed up back here. I managed to wire in the remote keyboard but since I can't get a systems' diagnostic, its pretty hit-and-miss to figure out what I can give you." He replied. She wasn't able to hear all of it due to his accent and the intercom malfunctioning, but she understood. She had to resist the urge to smack her helmet or take it off due to the flickering display. It was giving her a headache and it wasn't as though she had enough problems already.

She could see on the _soccer ball _that her opponent was playing with her. It was the one part of the display which was still functioning. The display in question was an orb which consisted of a grid-within-a-grid that gave what appeared to be a 3-D tactical map. The perspective of the map could be changed to suit the user's need. Right now, the only perspective which worked was the starboard side view.

Their opponent was firing at them with short bursts and was varying the range from short to medium as he swayed from side to side. MAIDEN determined aloud,

"We're not going to make it back to the local facility. Do you have any other ideas?" GROUPIE mused,

"The HQ building we were at last night is closer." She agreed and swung around. This caused the controls to stiffen. She was having to use all her strength to keep SKYSHARK airborn as the cyclic refused to cooperate. The collective began to feel loose and began to pull to the left. They were now flying at an angle. With resignation, MAIDEN admitted,

"Going down without a fight, this is a first for me." A surprising reply came from behind her,

"Not to worry, our antagonist seems to have lost interest!"

"In that case, prepare to cut power. As soon as we clear this next ridge, I'm going to find a place to la…" A loud metallic _**POP**_ cut her off and the power suddenly went dead. Since they were not very far off the ground, they only spun a couple of times as they fell from the sky before they hit the ground!


	15. Chapter 15

Back at the Church Consulting facility, Hawke and Santini were just lifting off to lead a convoy of recovery vehicles due to the images which had just been transmitted. As they left the hangar, JUNIOR noted,

"Something's wrong, I'm not reading the transponder signal from SKYSHARK 02." BISHOP kicked in the Impellers and left their ground team behind. After what seemed like an eternity, they arrived at the location of the original downed SKYSHARK. BISHOP inquired,

"Anything yet?"

"I'm getting a couple ghost signatures due to all this interference. The only suggestion I can make is to fly this lady up to her ceiling and let me check each one visually using an optical scan." Came JUNIOR's response. As they climbed thousands of feet into the air, BISHOP decided to make conversation,

"Since you're not flying with Uncle Dom right now, why are you still using your civilian callsign and not your regular official one?"

"Probably the same reason that my adopted sister uses her nickname rather than her old callsign. Admittedly, using her initials was better than naming her after a fruit. Even if she does have golden hair and fair skin, I still think the comparison is a tad silly." JUNIOR answered. BISHOP commented,

"I don't know about that. I think it is pretty complimentary. Aside from that I kind of envy Michael's position in her life…" He instantly realized he'd said too much and stopped speaking. JUNIOR was not going to let the slip go that easily,

"What's this now? Hey come on, spill it! This is my family we're talking about."

"I promised I wouldn't say anything and I'd be violating the confidence of two women I love."

"So Jo-Jo has the _hot-and-bothereds _for Archangel, huh? I guess I'll have to 'Jed Clampett' this situation." JUNIOR concluded. BISHOP sighed and then asked what a _Jed Clampett_ was.

"Its from the _Beverly Hillbillies_ whenever the backward nephew would do something awkward, the wiser uncle would say _'one of these days, I'm going to have a loonng talk with that boy'_ and I think it applies here." BISHOP shrugged as he leveled the helicopter at near the operational ceiling height. JUNIOR began the scan/search pattern radiating outward from the crash site. While waiting, he said offhandedly,

"Besides, one of my favorite movies has a character named 'Junior' in it and I'm kind of used to the appellative. I may still wear the beret all the time but your wife's hair would still qualify her better for the handle. Although I understand why she has the callsign she was given." BISHOP watched dispassionately as the search pattern unfolded in his helmet's sight.

It seemed to be progressing fast for him as he couldn't actually see much of anything in the near blur of activity. He knew that both JUNIOR and KC seemed to have senses which worked better than usual.

KC had once told him privately that he'd been part of an experimental _super-soldier_ program which had rendered him the kind of human which would have done both Darwin and Nietzsche proud. They had been sharing an after-work drink and KC was already acting a bit silly when he stood up and announced that he was _'better, faster, stronger–gentlemen we have the techn…'_ JUNIOR interrupted his reverie by announcing,

"Got it! Its about 7.5 klicks from the original crash site. Due to the trees, I can't really tell, but it looks as though it has been damaged as well. Feeding the location to your helmet." BISHOP acknowledged as the _soccer ball _morphed to adapt to the information being fed to it. He eased forward and down on the controls to make an easy beeline for the location. He was debating whether to kick in the Impellers or not when the voice behind him exclaimed,

"Strange…one of the 'ghosts' is appearing again in the same location and intensity as it had when we first detected it while scanning the wreckage of SKYSHARK Unit 09. Trying to clean up…incoming bird!" BISHOP kicked in the Impellers and hauled the controls over in an effort avoid the missile. It turned out to be in vain as the missile struck them in the port pod near the base of the strut. The angle of the strike caused the explosion to smash the Impeller. Unfortunately, due to the extent of the damage, when the Impeller system shut down the engines did not reengage the main rotor.

* * *

700 Nautical Miles due West; AWACS E-3G Sentry codenamed Gypsum382, panel 3-Charlie C4ISR tasking, monitoring NATO comm traffic:

"Major, I'm getting an unusual signal on a sideband protocol. Its a frequency reserved for CIA traffic, yet the transponder ID is one of those from the SR-71 sequences. I cannot respond since the transmission's modulation is being stealth masked in a way I can't track" The Major nodded and plugged his headphones into the station's auxiliary jack to listen to a distorted voice saying,

"Mayday mayday! This is Bishop aught 1 we are in a Hard Fall! We are at Angels 19 and descending! I repeat…" The Major looked down and said to the man seated in front of him,

"All we can do is forward this to command as a priority 1 contact. And pray that whoever they are that God is watching over them in this difficult hour." His subordinate looked up at him and nodded, smiling as he complied.

* * *

"Primary ignition bypassed. Oil regulator has insufficient pressure to institute automatic startup sequence. Port engine may be incapable of restart. Resetting sequence using starboard as primary engine." JUNIOR narrated as he progressed. BISHOP requested,

"Will we be able to fly with just one engine? Or will my last maneuver be an ultra high speed landing?" JUNIOR laughed in spite of himself and concluded,

"We may have to ditch the damaged pod. For certain we'll be able to land as I've gotten just enough power to the remaining engine to get it running. I'm hoping that once it gets running that I can tweak it enough so that it can act to get us back to minimum parameters. In the meantime, I'm going to have to shut down several nonessential systems"

"Oh now that is a bit disorienting." BISHOP exclaimed as the secondary display emitter for his helmet shut down.

This changed the 3D multi-spectral image into a 2D progressive-angle image. Instead of looking like a hologram, it now looked like a computer monitor.

He was still fighting the controls, but he could _feel_ that his partner was making some progress. The ground, what he could see of it, was coming up fast. He was beginning to see more detail and if it weren't for the peril they were in he could almost admire the beauty of the locale. JUNIOR spoke up to ask,

"Are you reading anything for the main rotor RPM yet?" When BISHOP replied to the negative, the man at the Engineer's console informed him,

"Well the rotor's engaged again but it is still going faster than the engine which has been restarted. In order for a controlled landing, they will need to be at the same speed. Right now they are nowhere close as evidenced by the lack of a readout on your gauge. The engine is increasing at a steady rate while the rotor is slowing at an uneven rate." BISHOP responded that he could confirm this as he felt the collective beginning to firm up while the cyclic still felt loose and 'gummy' for lack of a better term. Although they were still falling at an incredibly unsafe speed, their descent was clearly slowing.

BISHOP could tell that the environmental adaptive system in his flight suit was no longer functioning as he felt himself beginning to sweat. He also noted that his vision was beginning to fuzz at the edges and must have voiced his observation as JUNIOR spoke up,

"The cabin pressure monitors aren't keeping up with the external pressure changes as we descend. My guess is that not only are the sensors damaged, but we may have a leak somewhere as well. Since we do have an oil leak, I know I'm smelling oil back here so I think that we may have had a small fire but I don't see any smoke. I guess all the inside pressure must be pushing it out."

From Caitlin's perspective, she had not seen the attack but had been watching the trail of smoke as something came almost straight at them.

Korolyshyn was in and out of consciousness. His right arm and leg had been broken in the crash when the port landing strut had struck the crest of the hill they were flying over.

The good news was that the impact had stopped their spin for nearly a second but the bad news was that the port skid had collapsed upon touchdown.

She'd had a hard time dragging the burly Ukrainian from the wreckage. She had somehow managed to get him, as well as much of the survival equipment, from the smoking wreck in just a matter of minutes. She had then begun checking the sky for their unknown attacker when she had spotted the plume of dark smoke heading their direction. At first she'd thought it was another missile but as it got closer she realized it was another SKYSHARK.

She hadn't really been trained in the specific use of the MP7 which was part of the survival pack but she'd seen it in use and understood the basics which all firearms shared. She slid the extending stock all the way open and folded the front stabilizer grip down. She flipped the safety to semiautomatic and peered through the sight at the red dot. Caitlin was almost shocked at how hard the helicopter landed. There was no activity for at least a minute when the door swung open. She figured there was something wrong as there was usually a sharp hiss when the door opened. A familiar figure stepped out, shook his head, and then pulled his helmet off. Despite the distance, she easily recognized her husband. She stood and limped toward him while he trotted toward her. Once she was a couple yards away, she called out,

"Nikolai is unconscious. We were shot down. I have the flight recorder downloading onto a flash drive. You can…" St John interrupted her with a quick kiss and then ordered,

"Give me the MP7 and get into the W-T station of my SKYSHARK. I'll go get Nikolai and the drive." She started to protest but he was already almost to the crest of the hill.

Hawke collapsed the stock and folded the grip back into the _up_ position. He checked the transfer status on the thumb drive. It was only about 2/3 complete.

He spotted the open container from the survival gear which had contained the PDW he was carrying. On top of the contents was a nylon rig for carrying the weapon under one's shoulder. He quickly attached the rig to the weapon and shrugged it on.

Hawke then slung GROUPIE over his other shoulder and made his way back to SKYSHARK. When he got there, he dropped Korolyshyn onto the deck of the Engineer's section. He looked at JUNIOR and informed him,

"The backup wasn't complete so I have to back for the drive." He then addressed his wife, "Is there anything on the scope yet?" She replied that there was nothing as far as she could tell. St John ran back to the downed SKYSHARK and found that the backup had indeed completed. He then dropped the thumb drive into a protective case and stuck the container into a pocket. Over his earpiece he heard a distorted voice say,

"St John…hurry, incoming…estimated…carrying weapons…arriving in…we can't stay…longer." It was all he needed to hear to start the mad dash back to SKYSHARK.

He didn't get far beyond the crest of the hill when the crackle of autofire was followed by the ground at his feet being chewed up by the fired rounds. He dove and rolled to one side. He came up on one knee in a low crouch and fired several short bursts at the line of attackers. At least half a dozen of them fell. A couple stray rounds whipped past his head and he decided a good run was better than a bad stand.

St John continued his trek in the low crouch until he literally stumbled upon a natural divot in the terrain. He flipped the fire selector to semiautomatic and peeked out just enough to return fire. _Thank God these idiots are using AK-47s_. St John had used a Kalashnikov while undercover and hated the weapon. The weapon's tolerances were so loose that it was practically useless for anything but short-range encounters while firing fully automatic.

This fact of life was Hawke's only saving grace as another couple dozen attackers came over the next hill. The attackers were coming from a position perpendicular to SKYSHARK, while Hawke was about 45º from the nose. He muttered to himself,

"The good news is that SKYSHARK is taking all the hits. The bad news is that's the side my door is on." From above him, Hawke suddenly heard a grinding rattle along with a staccato series of hiccups. The line of attackers was instantly disrupted by a series of explosions and a smaller series chewed its way through their ranks.

Hawke looked up and spotted another SKYSHARK with the number 4 on it. It had fired 3 grenades and was following up with its .50 caliber machine gun. This kept the attackers at bay but did not cause them to back off. Hawke raised himself up a little and signed,

+Get going now back to base. Send recovery vehicles here and I will return with them. First drop me more ammunition for MP7 at crash site.+ He didn't wait for any response as he darted back over to the crash site.

He imagined JUNIOR and MAIDEN arguing over the order as they ascended. A moment later, a small bag filled with clips and some other survival items dropped from SKYSHARK before the helicopter turned and departed in the direction of the home base.


	16. Chapter 16

"Yes I understand. Thank you Michael. I trust your judgment on this. I wish I were there to help you. If you need anything at all, just ask." Stringfellow Hawke listened to the phone for a few seconds and then hung up. He looked at his watch and counted down 20 seconds. When he was at 2, there was a knock at his door. He called out for Newman to enter.

Church Consulting's Director entered the office and strode up to the desk as Hawke stood. Hawke's piercing blue eyes watched as the other man approached, never making his direct eye contact.

Newman's eyes instead remained affixed on the desk's nameplate. He ran his fingers across the words _Deputy Director_ and looked up. His face was dispassionate but his eyes were like burning coals. Hawke half expected laser beams to come shooting forth. Stringfellow took a breath and started,

"My condolences…" Newman interrupted with a raised hand.

"My reputation would tend to contradict my sincerity when I say this. Trust that I do mean it when I say that my prayers are with your family. To have multiple incidents happen within one day would be trying on anyone to say the least. I'm leaving early to be with my family and I wanted to suggest you do the same." Making conversation, Hawke commented,

"I didn't realize that you were the churchgoing type." Newman shrugged,

"I'm not. I usually attend the home group that Church Consulting hosts here at the facility. The last time I was in a church, it was for your niece's christening." This information took Hawke by surprise _You were there?_ and it must have been evident on his face. Newman continued, "My wife's middle name is Lynn so I didn't have much choice once she saw Kayra Lynn Josepheniana Hawke's name on the invitation." Stringfellow grinned in understanding and this elicited a tight smile from his grieving superior. Hawke then sighed in compassion,

"Well boss, please keep us apprised of the arrangements. We'd be honored to be in attendance." Newman nodded,

"Of course. This time, please remember that you are now a Major and wear the appropriate rank insignia. It left me with some explaining to do even though I understand that you aren't entirely comfortable with the events surrounding the promotion." Hawke frowned _That's an understatement_,

"No I'm not. But I guess that its about time I swallowed my pride on the matter. Michael filled me in that he called in a favor with local General and had the facts tweaked so that your son will be buried with honors." There was a slight softening in Newman's eyes as he commented,

"Yes it is ironic since he was there. Since he was killed on the same day as the assault he took part in via the SKYSHARK, his body was transferred to the hospital which was treating the dead and wounded from the ground operation."

"Its unfortunate that not everyone who died at our facility last night can be given the same consideration." Hawke concluded with a pinched expression. Newman muttered in response,

"Well let me see what I can do. You'll owe me big if I get this done." Stringfellow nodded wordlessly. The two men shook hands and Hawke made his way to the facility's hospital. He intended to spend some quiet time with his incapacitated friend, mentor, and surrogate father.

Such was not to be the case. KC was already there, going over some paperwork. The young man looked up as his boss approached and smiled,

"Hiya String, how's things?" Stringfellow rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath,

"Clearly this kid is spending way too much time with my brother." KC smiled and shrugged,

"Well the Colonel has always been somewhat of a role model to me so that is kind of a compliment." Hawke stopped short, wondering how the kid had heard him speaking so low and from such a distance. He then recalled that part of his file was classified: Most Secret; Secure Interest-Eyes Only and the Compartmentalization code led the experienced agent to figure that the kid had some kind of unique skill.

He knew that Nicko had demonstrated some incredibly unique abilities and when he'd mentioned it to Archangel, the man had seemed completely nonplussed by the information. Coldsmith-Briggs had mentioned that the two had been part of a special training project run by the Air Force.

When Hawke had been developing some of the advanced systems, he had interacted with Carter and some of the equipment that her Research and Development had available was a wild dream come true for him. As part of the continuing SKYSHARK program, she also had several training regimens which had already been tested in the field to improve endurance and reflexes. When Carter and Nicko had recognized each other and had the exchange at the airfield, his suspicions had been confirmed. A part of him had ached to mention the kid to her but he realized that sometimes a few secrets between friends kept a relationship in balance.

Hawke unbuttoned his white suitjacket and sat down next to the kid. He glanced over at the paperwork on the kid's lap while he said,

"I just spoke with Michael. The program is proceeding as expected with a few minor setbacks. It seems your former boss is quite a prodigy as well as a maverick." KC got an odd look on his face for a moment and then laughed,

"O'Neill has said as much on several occasions. We worked with a gentleman named Blue who was so physically fit that he makes Ah-nold look like a wimp and even he was impressed by the Boss' prowess on occasion."

_Blue? I thought his name was Teal?_

Stringfellow knew better then to voice his confusion. If he'd said anything, KC would be duty-bound to report it to O'Neill and that would cause Hawke no shortage of headaches when O'Neill reported to the next step of his chain of command…

Hawke had never met the man, he just knew that on one occasion Carter had referred to the name in the masculine gender. When Hawke had been to the facility where Carter was working, they had entered a storage area and one of the workers was carrying a small case out of the room when one of the smaller boxes had fallen off the top.

The case had been marked STARGATE COMMAND, the smaller box had a plate which looked like it read JAFFA or JAPPA, and he'd gotten just the briefest glance at the nomenclature tags when the box had popped open before Carter or the worker could catch it. There were at least 10 ultrasonic syringes with the word TRETONIN engraved into the padding. Hawke had only seen part of the name on the syringe which had been the individual in question, although it had seemed to him there had been an apostrophe after the name.

In conversation with Carter, he'd supposed they were either administering or withdrawing a substance which was a variant of adrenaline involving soldiers serving in Israel. It was a good bluff and Carter had seemed to buy it. Simply put, tretonin and adrenaline sounded similar, he'd lied when he'd said he thought the plate had 'P' rather than 'F' since the letters were similar enough at a glance, and he'd guessed the test subjects were coded by color.

He'd only slipped once when he'd seen her bemused reaction to the color reference and commented that he _guessed that she was acquainted with the soldier in question?_ She'd replied that she was and the _he was incredibly physically fit._ He had supposed that she'd said that to cement the idea of the adrenaline concept in his mind.

KC jotted a few notes on the papers on his clipboard and then murmured,

"I know we don't need to hold vigil by the Boss but I figured this was the only way I could get some peace and quiet while I examined the initial contract from this morning's meeting. They have tentatively agreed with using the title of your book VANGUARD but inquired about adding 'The' to the front of it. I was actually surprised by the studio since they not only brought along Mr Sorbo's agent along, but the actor was there for a few moments. He's a very charming man but doing the 'meet and greet' with me made him that much later for an appearance he was doing for his charity. He liked the name of your hero, Falco DeSaint, since he's of a Norwegian background and the name has a Nordic feel to it. He also suggested that it might be a good idea for him to get some flying lessons to make the cockpit scenes realistic. How ironic, huh? I told him that if he played his cards right, he might even wind up meeting the author of the book which inspired the project. That thrilled him and seemed to freak out the suits. Shall we all bow before the almighty String? Renee and Danielle should be here within the hour as well." Stringfellow nodded and replied,

"Good, I wanted to thank them for taking over the work on _Terminal Ops_. I know last year at this time we had this same discussion of having you hire on yet another assistant and the offer is still open. The one bit of good news that I heard through the grapevine is that Ms Jolie is no longer interested in playing Ms Z for the VANGUARD project." KC nodded,

"Yes I know that you aren't impressed with her type of celebrity, so I purposely dragged my heels at meeting her handlers' demand list." Hawke indulged himself in a small smile at this.


	17. Chapter 17

Two females appeared down the hall and KC stood to greet them. The kid embraced the fairer one and when she also hugged Stringfellow, the white-garbed man patted her on the shoulder.

Danielle had fair skin although her cheeks had acne scars on them and her platinum blonde hair was almost a third of the way down her back. Even though she was the kid's cousin, they looked alike enough to pass for siblings. Her days as a pilot with NASA had been spent mostly as a 'glorified taxi driver' flying people around the country. To her it was a pretty stuffy job. She had applied to the Shuttle program multiple times but had been turned down.

The day she had received her final rejection letter KC had called her and commented that Hawke Aviation was hiring an assistant for him. Upon hearing this she had replied _'where do I sign up_?' in frustration. A day later, Dominic Santini had handed him her resumé which had been e-mailed to the website's central contact.

Renee, on the other hand, had black hair which barely reached to her shoulders. She had an olive complexion which reflected her oriental heritage. She had been a childhood friend of Caitlin's and had just started working as a trainee of the Highway Patrol when Caitlin had first met Hawke. Since she'd been working with Caitlin's partner, Rosie, they'd both been given a week off when Rosie had to go to Pennsylvania for her brother's funeral. Renee's mother came from old money and their home was nothing short of a mansion. Caitlin had readily agreed to visit with her friend's family for the week since they were having a family reunion and everyone was expected to bring a guest.

The only problem had arisen on the third evening when Renee's cousin had arrived with her new fiancee. Unfortunately, the fiancee had dated Renee in high school and was still somewhat obsessed with the exotic-looking dark beauty. They had been going for a late swim when he'd made an aggressive move for her. Despite her polite attempts to reject him, and perhaps fueled by the same, his efforts quickly crossed the line into assault.

Renee was nearly incapacitated when Caitlin returned from her run around the perimeter of the family's land. She had immediately gone into action by demanding he leave the pool and get down on the ground with his hands atop his head. It was only then the he revealed he'd been in trouble with the law before due to a _misunderstanding_ which had been 'similar to this one'. Fortunately Caitlin had gone on her run with her equipment belt so she had gone for her cuffs.

He had insisted she did not have the authority and he was not going down for the third strike just because some old girlfriend wanted to play hard to get. When Caitlin had approached him to put on the cuffs he had spun around and elbowed her in the temple.

It had knocked her senseless and sent her through a nearby bush. While trying to get her bearings, she heard some splashing and thrashing in the pool. Climbing back through the bush, she had seen him holding Renee under the water with a fierce look of murderous determination on his face. She yelled for him to stop but to no avail. Feeling dazed and unsteady, she was in no condition to confront him physically. She drew her sidearm and stood close enough to get his attention but far enough away to be safe if he tried anything.

He noticed, looked up at her, laughed and resumed choking Renee. Renee's head was mostly underwater and both hands were on his wrists, clawing and scratching for her life. He laughed again maniacally and snarled something about her thinking that she was too good for him and that she was going to pay. One of her hands let go and flopped to one side.

Caitlin realized with a horror what this meant. Now she had no choice. She fired.

The shooting had been ruled justified and the local District Attorney had declined to file charges.

When they had returned home, Internal Affairs did a rudimentary investigation but cleared both for duty.

When Caitlin found that Renee's mother had called the Governor, whose office had put pressure on the department to sweep the whole mess under a rug, she had been a little uncomfortable by the fuss that was made and the rumors which had started. She then decided to tender her resignation and go conclude her search for her mysterious benefactor which had led her to a company called _Santini Air_.

Throughout the years, she'd remained in contact with Renee. Her friend was still a 'flying meter maid' but still felt a bit guilty about the part she had played in Caitlin's leaving the job.

When Renee had asked if there was ever anything she could do to replay Caitlin for the debt she owed her friend, Caitlin had jokingly replied that she could 'come work for me'.

Renee had showed up two days later, resumé in hand. Caitlin and St John had been on vacation and KC was showing Danielle the ropes of her new job. KC had told her to follow along until one of the Santinis showed up. The two women had gotten along well until Dom had showed up and KC had introduced Renee while Danielle was upstairs in the computer room.

Having just had a busy day wrangling with the questionable competence of the corporate board he had inherited a position on, Dom was a bit confused by the introduction. He knew he'd told KC to hire a female assistant. He'd then turned to Renee and shaken her hand to welcome her aboard the team. KC then reminded him that he'd already hired his cousin while this woman was a friend of Caitlin's. Dom had glanced at her resumé and stated she was certainly qualified so that she could work with KC until Mrs Hawke returned in case she had another job in mind for her. When she returned she did not and the two women had turned out to be quite a force to be reckoned with when it came to their Corporate/Hollywood accounts.

Danielle now asked KC how the boss was doing. He gestured over to the bed and informed her,

"He is in an artificial coma right now. He had a mild stroke after being shot and the doctor feels this is the best way to help him heal faster. If he hadn't stuck the Deputy badge in his breast pocket, he'd be dead now. The impact of the badge against his chest caused some deep-tissue bruising on his ribs and lung. Fortunately, there had been minimal damage to his heart." Hawke spoke up to ask Renee,

"By the way, who is watching the store this evening?"

"Reg and Ray. Everyone has offered to work extra hours for the next couple days after what happened. Although they say that the Santini Air JetRanger is a total loss. They'll see what they can do to rebuild it but it may not be worth it." Reg and Ray were two young African-American brothers who Dom had hired as mechanics.

Ray was older and had lost the bottom third of his left leg while serving with the Army in Afghanistan. Reg had gotten involved with a gang and had spent nearly a year in prison. Ray had persuaded Dom to give his brother a job so that he could he could qualify for an early release.

Stringfellow hadn't trusted the ex-convict and had put the ultimate temptation in the young mans's hands by giving Reg a cell phone and the keys to Hawke Aviation's new minivan. Hawke had then called him at 7am to get a ride to Church Consulting.

Since then, the brothers had pretty much been part of the family and even helped to run things on occasion.

Danielle pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair and shook her hair out. KC stuck his paperwork into the padfolio and zipped it shut. He then dropped the folio into his shoulder bag. While Danielle rolled her head from side-to-side to relieve her aching neck, KC rubbed her neck and shoulders.

Renee sat down with a sigh as Danielle commented about how good it felt. At the sound of the sigh, the cousins both looked at her. She arched her eyebrow, a habit she had picked up working with the Hawke brothers, and said icily,

"Don't even think about it…either of you!" This got a smile out of Stringfellow.

KC laughed as he was massaging Danielle's shoulders. She yelped in pain and admonished him to _be more careful_ as she winked at him. Her cousin moved his hands up to the nape of her neck and asked _like this?_ as he made a quick grabbing motion to imitate the famous _Vulcan nerve pinch_. Danielle fell over onto the chair next to her.

Renee gasped and leaped to her feet, giving her boss an incredulous look as she approached her friend. Halfway there, she noticed Danielle peeking through the hair now spilled across her face. Renee stopped, hands on hips with arms akimbo and glared at the two. She sighed in exasperation,

"Oh this is another one of your…don't you two _ever _give up?" Danielle sat up in a fit of giggles at her friend's expense. She made a show of wiping her cousin's shoulder of imaginary dust and then rested her head on the shoulder. She tucked her curly long hair behind an ear as she smiled,

"Not when I can have this much fun, honey. Besides that's what friends are for." She closed her ice blue eyes and began to relax her breathing. It was one thing that she and St John had in common that neither needed much sleep but she didn't have the man's energy level so she would grab a power nap when she could.

Hawke looked at her and marveled how beautiful she was. Except for the acne scars on her face, her skin was flawless. Much like Jo's except that KC's cousin had a slightly slightly darker tone. Hawke suspected that she could have been a model if not for the facial scarring.

Renee smiled in spite of herself. Her concern for the welfare of others made her somewhat gullible to this form of teasing and the cousins tended to be merciless due to this fact. She turned to Hawke and requested,

"Are you going to do anything about this Boss?" Stringfellow arched an eyebrow at her insistence of using the term _Boss_ in relation to him all the time. He replied easily,

"Not really. I mean what was the reason for you to come here in the first place?" Renee got the hint and answered dutifully,

"To see to Mr Santini's welfare, of course." She gestured toward the bed where his still figure lay on the far end of the room.

Danielle spoke up at this, her voice sounded half-asleep as it was spoken slowly and was lower in octave than her regular voice,

"Well then you sit with Pops for awhile and I'll give you a break in a bit." As soon as she stopped speaking, her breathing almost immediately returned to the even pattern of sleeping.

They all listened for a moment and the sound of the breathing. Danielle and Dom were breathing at the same pace, only a split-second apart and the odd sound was relaxing. Despite the ambient sounds of the machines monitoring Santini's vital signs. Stringfellow intoned softly,

"If you ladies don't mind, I think I'll take the next watch. I'd like to spend some time with him." Although KC insisted he didn't need the assistance, Hawke helped him move Danielle to the easy chair in the corner near the door. Hawke got a self-indulgent grin when she turned her head and rested it on his shoulder. Once she was situated, KC draped a blanket over her and eased the chair into a reclined position.


	18. Chapter 18

St John had spent much of the day playing cat-and-mouse with the few remaining gunmen in the area. He suspected there was an encampment somewhere in the area as the number of attackers he found himself fighting numbers which continued to ebb and flow. He had mused that it was just like a bad game of _Call Of Duty_ where the enemies just kept spawning.

After firing off 2 more rounds, he left his latest hiding spot and scooted to a nearby cluster of trees. He dove behind the relative safety and glanced about for more attackers as he muttered to himself,

"This is why I prefer playing _Rogue Spear_ since that way I can control the number of opponents." The tree he was behind began to shudder from a sudden onslaught of weapons fire. St John leaned around and with a few trigger pulls dropped the latest set of incoming attackers. Curiously, they seemed to be ignoring the downed SKYSHARK.

Hawke saw a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun around, bringing his weapon to the ready. He lost his balance and stumbled as an iron grip took hold of the front of the MP7's Picatinny rail.

"Hello to you too. In my humble opinion, pointing a weapon in the face of your rescuer is hardly an appropriate greeting." Nick smiled drily. Hawke looked around and asked in seeming confusion,

"Where's the rest of the cavalry?"

"I'm it." Santini shrugged. In response to the obvious question which was forming on Hawke's countenance, his friend continued, "The priority was given to SKYSHARK 09. I insisted on tagging along. After a couple hours, I snagged…_appropriated_ a truck and made my way here. We had hoped that you'd be making your way to the original crash site." Hawke shook his head,

"No. I figured my duty was to preserve the site. What's the status of our lady?"

"Cait is pretty shook up. Mostly from having a rough day of her own. She's also worried about you. SKYSHARK 01 is pretty banged up but salvageable. Due to the stealth design, the sections are modular which means they just have to keep disassembling until they find undamaged parts and rebuild from there." They made their way to the truck that Santini had brought. Santini handed Hawke a backpack and grabbed some equipment for himself.

"We'll remove the essential equipment and then use the engineer's system to blow the onboard munitions." Santini informed his partner. Hawke replied,

"The console itself is pretty smashed. We can probably connect the truck's multi-interface if its compatible. Do you want me to move the truck closer?" Santini shook his head,

"No thanks. They'll be upset enough that I borrowed it without asking. Returning it with someone's target practice included will be an unwelcome addition. Besides, I've brought along an EMmA." He held up the device, which looked like an oversized Palm LifeDrive. Hawke looked at the label which read _Encapsulated Memory Archive_. During his work at Church Consulting, he'd heard of the device and even seen the specifications. The only comparison he could make was that it was a simplified version of a Star Trek _Tricorder_ with a pseudo-intelligent voice interface. Rather than a solid state or hard drive, the EMA used an adaptive gel core. With the specialized McKay-Eppes grade on-the-fly compression system, the EMA's storage was virtually unlimited. Sometimes problems arose when compressing an encapsulated archived section of volume and transferring a small amount of data.

The two men remained unchallenged for the most part until they came back over the hill while approaching the downed craft. A spattering of rounds greeted them and bounced off of SKYSHARK's hull. Santini frowned,

"They are not going to make this an easy one." Hawke shrugged,

"I think they are more interested in us than the 'Lady'. They have been chasing me all day but the one time they approached SKYSHARK, they got on a radio and a moment later backed off." Santini agreed that was strange. He instructed,

"You get to work here, I'll go introduce some confusion into their mix." Hawke fielded the EMA with an overhand catch and then climbed into the back of SKYSHARK. He folded down one of the two auxiliary seats built-in to the rear wall of the Weapon Technician's station. He set his pack onto the seat and then told Santini to set the other pack on the floor next to the main seat.

Hawke found that activating and interfacing the EMA was like dealing with an obedient yet self-important child. Almost like Kayra Lynn when she was 1 1/2. If Hawke had thought computers were frustrating to use, the EMA seemed to have a personality which was downright annoying. _Everyone hates a know-it-all and its worse when they know they know it all and you are asking them a favor–AGH! _

It may have been Hawke's imagination, but once the EMA began to wirelessly download the training data and interface logs, the unit seemed to become impertinent. According to the display, the download and transfer processing was employing 92.5 of the EMA's capacity.

He'd originally had the bright idea of running the station off the EMA's internal power source. That had proven to be a mistake as the EMA's internal monitor had thrown the equivalent of a tantrum, demanding attention every 20 seconds and not allowing any processes to run until that attention was placated. Hawke had taken the mini generator out of the supplies and connected it to the main power for the SKYSHARK. Nothing. He had then tried the primary coupling just underneath the monitor of the Engineer's station. A third of the station had come to life and several of the digital displays seemed to initiate their boot sequences and then all of them froze. The two secondary monitors short-circuited and their control panel showered Hawke with sparks. The primary fold-out monitor came to life with a little coaxing but he could not get any higher resolution than 640x480 from the 17 inch device.

Hawke heard Santini's P90 erupt several times but was confused where the fire was coming from as it was either echoing or changing locations incredibly fast.

For his part, Santini had chosen to take the offensive against the attackers. It was going to be dusk soon and he didn't want to strip the parts they were taking with them in the dark. He had the P90 at the ready and he continued to select targets on the run.

There was a boulder some distance in front of him and he saw a hint of movement as an attacker peeked around it. He fired a short burst and the attacker fell. He ran toward the boulder and quickly closed the distance. He gave a mighty leap as he neared the boulder and easily found himself atop the rock. He saw three small groups of men were preparing an assault on Hawke's position. Santini calmly fired several short, sweeping bursts and managed to strike all the attackers down before they had a chance to react. This seemed to take much of the fight out of the attackers as Santini could see a few others in the distance who were either retreating or interacting with others and gesturing in multiple directions.

He briefly took chase using a loose zig-zag pattern while firing off a short burst here and there. His running at top speed and changing positions often would make it seem as though there was a much larger force of soldiers to be dealt with. After a few moments, he made his way back to SKYSHARK. As he got close to the helicopter, he called out,

"6 of Diamonds!"

"9 of Hearts!" Came Hawke's reply, indicating he was aware that Santini was approaching and that he was alone. Hawke's response told Santini it was safe to enter.

"How is EMmA coming along?" Santini asked while wagging a finger at the device. Hawke paused while alternating between typing madly on the console and smacking a flickering panel next to the display. He got a sly grin on his face and commented,

"Like a typical woman. She'll give you most of what you want and do it at a fairly even pace but you have to beg, plead and threaten to get your way. I had to promise EMmA that I would discuss with Cait about changing KayLy's name to Emma once we get home." Santini laughed at this and then grabbed several tools off the opened roll and got to work. It took another half hour and about 7 trips each before they had gotten to a point where they felt the job could be considered completed.

This was not due to the fact that there was no more work to be done rather it was too dark to continue and using any type of illumination was asking for trouble.

While Hawke fastened down all the equipment in the back of the truck, Santini prepared to demolish the downed aircraft. He manually set, loaded, and locked one of each type of missiles. He then did the same for the grenades and rockets after manually filling all 5 barrels of the launcher.

Noting that Hawke had set up the generator, Santini charged up the battery cells and programmed each one to activate several key systems in a staggered sequence just inside of a minute before detonation. As he closed the door, he noted that Hawke had left the survival pack on the ground and he slung it over a shoulder.

When Santini came over the hill, he noticed two things. The first was Hawke casually leaning up against the front of the truck. The second was that the attackers now had some sort of lightly armored vehicle which had a machine gun mounted on it! Santini called out while unclipping his P90 from his harness,

"Get out of here, the opposition has an RV! Take my P90 but it only has 1/2 a clip left. I'll be fine with my SOCOM pistol. Tell C-B I'm heading for the HQ building."

"Now wait just a minute! You're going to take on all that by yourself? We stand a better chance…" Hawke shot back. Santini interrupted him by stating,

"It's not open for debate. Once you start the truck, there will be more lead in the air than in a freshly painted day-care center!" Hawke realized there was no sense in arguing especially since Santini was proven correct a moment later when he turned the ignition. The truck roared to life and a line of divots began to track their way through the dirt toward the vehicle. Hawke gunned the engine and the truck responded obediently.

Back at SKYSHARK, Santini reached underneath the Weapon's Technician station to grab an oddly-shaped box. He tore the top off with his teeth and folded out the oversized handle. Taking a chance, he pushed a button on the handle and glanced into what was now a very basic version of the multi-spectral sight for the helicopter. In an instant, he had the GPS coordinates, audio spectrograph analysis, IR signature, movement compression detail, and 5 other targeting factors on the enemy's RV.

The RV had changed its direction and was following Hawke's truck but the gunner simply could not keep up with the evasion techniques. Santini figured it would be easier and faster to connect a grenade to the device he had in his hand but it would not be as accurate so he went with an air-ground missile instead. He figured it would be better to use a direct-fire weapon anyway rather than spend precious time programming specific combat-load instructions into the munition.

With deft, well-trained moves, he flipped the cover off and opened the fasteners. By touch, he locked the fasteners into position for the device he was using. He already had SKYSHARK's side panels open so he kicked the bottom of the rack for the carousel which fed the missile launcher. The assembly broke cleanly. He rolled the weapon onto the box in his hand. He locked it into place and then glanced down the business end of the guidance system to ensure it lit up. All this took a matter of seconds.

To get a clean shot, Santini had to stand up in the middle of the empty part of the field. He targeted the RV and made a couple small adjustments. With the missile striking close to the back of the vehicle, the attackers who were using it for cover were also taken down.

Santini suddenly found himself being charged by a couple dozen attackers. _Uh oh, time for a change of plans; with discretion being the better part of valor, I think that a good run is better than a bad stand…_

He knew from previous experience that he could do the mile in just under 3 minutes due to the advanced training regimen he'd undergone. If he'd had KC's stamina, he could probably get to the HQ building in about half an hour.

He made an easy beeline for his destination and this actually brought him uncomfortably close to the attackers' location. He continued, knowing that even if they did hear him, the chance of them getting a hit at the angle he was moving would be minimal.

He continued for about 10 minutes until his endurance met its limit due to the uneven weight he was carrying. He'd been running uphill while carrying the launcher. He figured the launcher's sighting system could find practical use to help him find his way. He was now at the top of a rise about 2.5 miles or so from the crash site.

Viewing through the launcher, Santini easily located the wreckage of the destroyed RV and from there it was a simple matter to find SKYSHARK. A part of him wished he'd thought to grab a couple grenades.

He didn't need to concern himself about the grenades once the helicopter exploded. It was an impressive sight. It created a small mushroom fireball and chunks of the craft went everywhere. Several of the nearby trees caught fire. _I guess I'll be increasing my donation to the Sierra club this year! _The device was at maximum magnification but Santini noticed something that caught his attention. He concentrated his vision as much as he could until he began to feel nauseated. Several attackers had been approaching SKYSHARK and had been caught by the blast. At least half a dozen were on fire as they ran from the blast. Santini made a pinched expression as he watched them all fall well before they hit the treeline.

Nick was reminded of a conversation he'd had with Stringfellow during a mission down in South America. They had succeeded in destroying a terrorist training camp. The guards were all on loan from the local Army and were considered secondary targets to be taken down only if they attacked. Three guards had been running toward the main gate when the main tower with its two guards had collapsed. It had 'pancaked' and then another explosion had smashed the base of the structure, causing it to fall inward onto the escaping guards. Stringfellow had then commented _this is why I prefer a straight on fight to all this black ops junk, that way my opponent can see what's coming and I know exactly what I have accomplished _Nick had nodded his agreement. This situation echoed that old sentiment.

Santini crawled off the path he'd been following and found a small hollow to rest in. He dug into his supplies and had a light meal. The underbrush was sparse but it was dark enough so that he could rest for a few minutes before he made his mad dash for safety. Though his legs were sore, he folded them in close.

He must have been more tired than he thought as he was awakened by voices which were uncomfortably close! He could smell smoke and could see a glow of a campfire in the distance off to one side. The patrol obviously did not suspect he was there due to their noise level.

His legs had folded out from under him and were almost straightened. He started to slowly tuck them back in when the patrol came around the far side of the rocky hollow he had tucked himself into. There was literally no room from him to maneuver in the pocket of the overgrowth he had hidden himself in.

They were within view of Santini but he was certain they could not see him since the one looked directly at him and did not react. With slow, even moves he drew his sidearm. Praying it might give him a small advantage he also eased out the weapon's suppressor and screwed it into place.

From his position, he could see 6 of them and guessed that he could take down definitely 2 and perhaps 3 before they had a chance to respond. There was a good chance he'd have to leave his supplies behind and the sound of the gunfire would certainly bring an enormous amount of unwanted attention.

His plans suddenly took a radical change when the patrol came to a stop and their tailgunner was standing on his right calf! On instinct, he knew what to. Counter to all common sense, despite his mind and adrenaline screaming to react, he held his position for a timeless moment. That moment came to an abrupt halt as the tailgunner started to lift his foot off Santini's leg. With time seeming to move in slow-motion, nearly like an old time movie projector going frame-by-frame, Santini exploded into action. The tailgunner died with a look of surprise on his face.

Santini's gun followed his eyes as he mentally _locked_ on each target before firing. He actually impressed himself since he was able to get 4 of them before they were able to react. The one in the lead, who was farthest from him, spun around but fortunately he froze when he saw Santini. It was a fatal mistake. The #2 man had just enough time to bring his weapon to bear before he was hit. The instant he pulled the trigger Santini felt a twinge of panic as he found himself looking at the business end of an AK-47 from a range of 15 feet!

An instant later, the man silently crumpled to the ground from Santini's bullet.

Santini glanced at his watch as he continued his trek toward the HQ building. He'd slept for a little over half an hour. He continued along the path but quickly realized to his chagrin that it continued straight through the enemy's encampment.

Going around counterclockwise was the shortest distance but there was more undergrowth that way. With a flash of inspiration, he crept some distance clockwise and poured 3 rounds into the fire. There was a shower of sparks and ash as the camp erupted into chaos. Santini bolted from his position and made his way around the camp counterclockwise. The occupants of the camp continued to fire on his previous position. This made enough noise to cover his progress. Santini reloaded his pistol and said a quick prayer of thanks as he left the camp behind.


	19. Chapter 19

"That's a very pretty picture, I think I'll put in the office at the hangar." Stringfellow Hawke smiled as he looked at the budding artist.

Miraculously, Kayra Lynn had come through her ordeal with no broken bones. She had a concussion and had sprained her left arm in several places. The sniper's bullet had struck a commemorative plaque dead center in the back. The wood had been cherry and the design on the front had been pewter. The little girl had a nasty bruise on her chest from where the plaque had hit her. She had regained consciousness within an hour of arriving at the hospital.

Danielle had been holding vigil over the child for much of the time. Currently, she and KC were doing some post-production work on _Terminal Operations_ and wouldn't return until late that evening.

Stringfellow had turned off his cellphone due to the fact that the cousins were notorious practical jokesters and Hollywood Directors were unfortunately short on humor and patience during the final phases of movie projects. Danielle was actually the worse of the two and had actually tricked Hawke once. As the result of a joke, she had pretended to have a heart attack and Hawke had started to give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, not that he had minded that one bit, but an instant later he had tasted the _hot & spicy_ joke gum that she was chewing. It had taken 2 weeks for everyone around Hawke Aviation to stop calling him 'Spicy' at the cousins' encouragement.

Nick had told Stringfellow that KC used to be much worse but had toned things down significantly after he'd been passed over for promotion the first time. The young pilot had found out that when you are up for your first promotion, you don't play a joke on a bald two-star General…no matter how funny the joke actually is!

Renee was due to be stopping by any minute now as she had taken a day off to go visit with family who was in the area on business.

Nurse Piano entered the room to give Kayra Lynn her medications and Hawke politely excused himself. Piano was an easygoing, professional, and grandmotherly type who had taken care of Stringfellow on numerous occasions during his FIRM days. Now that she was head of the Nursing staff and routinely saw to the care of badly injured Agents who were sometimes delirious from either their injuries or the resulting medications, it was joked that she had a higher Security Clearance than the President and even God asked her for advice on very sensitive topics.

"Good afternoon, Major. How is our patient doing?" Stringfellow always had to resist the urge to salute her when she greeted him. She didn't try to put on airs by being overly friendly, she carried out her duties with a smile and an attitude of respect. Kayra Lynn had made it clear that she didn't care to be called _Miss Hawke_ so Piano had relented and called the girl by her given name.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. She's gotten some energy back. KayLy is letting her artistic side show." Kayra Lynn enthusiastically held up her drawing and announced,

"Uncle String is going to hang it up on his office." Stringfellow beamed with pride. Piano nodded in admiration. The picture was well-drawn if not entirely to scale. It showed the _Santini Air_ Bell JetRanger landing in front of a building labeled 'Havvki Avocashum'. In reality, the sign for _Hawke Aviation_ was printed in italicized script so the 4-year-old's confusion was understandable. Hawke still found himself suppressing a grin at his niece's honest mistake.

In the past, Stringfellow had been beaten up, shot, broken bones, amongst many other injuries but none of them had ever bothered him so much as to see his own flesh-and-blood receive an injection through the intravenous tube in her arm. It made the skin on his legs crawl. Knowing that Kayra Lynn liked to be kissed on her forehead, Stringfellow did so and assured her,

"Its going to be okay KayLy, I'll be right outside. You will be feeling all better soon." She giggled her thanks. He did an about-face and strode out of the room with a calmness he wasn't feeling.

It was upsetting for him to see the little child like this after promising to watch her. He felt like he'd broken a promise to his brother and especially to her. A tear started to well up so he almost didn't notice Renee until he nearly collided with her.

Stringfellow mumbled an apology and dropped himself into a nearby chair. Renee glanced into the room and waved before she turned to sit next to Hawke. For his part, he asked casually,

"How did the family reunion go?" Renee gave him a surprised look and shrugged,

"Well Boss, it wasn't much of a reunion. My sister and her agent were in the area doing some location work. She told her people she was going to have lunch with me and that had to rearrange her schedule for today." Hawke smiled, knowing that agents were not fond of schedules being changed on the fly. He held up a hand in a casual gesture and commented,

"Look, we're both off-duty, there is no need to address me so formally. I do have a name." She shrugged her response,

"Yes sir, Mr Hawke." Stringfellow smiled and shook his head. There was a series of beeps from inside the room as Piano adjusted some settings on the monitors. Renee looked toward the door and Hawke noted how much she resembled the late Merella in profile. He wasn't surprised since he'd heard Caitlin and Renee discussing how she had once done some successful undercover work among some Mexican workers. Making conversation, Hawke asked,

"Does she actually have a project on paper? Or is it just in spec right now?" She laughed lightly,

"That's funny. She always has someone chasing after her for some project or another. When I once dropped her off, they actually asked me to perform a stunt for her. We do bear a passing resemblance to each other but nobody has ever really made the connection. Her hair is longer and wavy, she has our Father's blue eyes, and she's a bit more muscular than I am." Hawke looked at her for a second as if mentally making the narrated adjustments. His eyebrow suddenly arched and he started to say,

"You're talking about…"

"Yes. My fraternal twin sister is the world-famous 'Onyx' of screen and song." Hawke paused in confusion and queried,

"I know from your background check that your Mother is from the Orient. Last year, when Onyx made the _Most Eligible Bachelorette_ list, she was labeled as a Mexican beauty."

"Well my Dad is from New Mexico. He taught us to speak Mexican early on. We just simply decided for family privacy not to correct the assumptions." Renee shrugged her reply. Hawke chuckled,

"Well I guess it was effective. I never would have guessed and I'm usually pretty attuned to these things." She nodded her reply,

"Well judging from the enigmatic nature of your friend Mr Coldsmith-Briggs, I'm guessing he's affiliated with some Federal Agency. So I suspect that at some point you also did some work along those same lines. My own Father did some work for an Anti-Drug Task Force and some of his friends remind me of you and your brother. I also was told that this facility used to be some kind of Military Contractor. You, the elder Mr Santini, and Mr Coldsmith-Briggs seem comfortable enough here that you seem to belong here. That kind of familiarity doesn't just happen overnight. I'm guessing that when the role of the military was expanded after 9-11, this facility's role was downsized and new contractor was found which happened to be religious in nature." _Lady, you have no idea…_ Hawke replied nonchalantly,

"Well, Dom and I have done some work with the Federal Anti-Drug Enforcement Task Force just like your Father. The difference is that he did water craft interceptions. I used to do airborne pursuits and assault. Michael Coldsmith-Briggs was my boss and in charge of the overall program. You already know from the time you'd helped Cait on that assignment that Michael has involvement with the Pentagon. Of course, Jo-Jo used to work there with him and she is now my aide." It was a stretch of the truth. Renee had good intuition, but a little intuition and a lot of imagination built upon a factual basis had caused Hawke trouble in the past. With the existing situation's outcome being uncertain, trouble was the last thing he wanted right now.

Nurse Piano appeared at the door pushing the cart with the empty food tray. She informed Hawke that Kayra Lynn was now resting once again. She replied to the negative when Hawke asked if his niece was still being as picky an eater as usual. Piano lifted the warming cover to show the tray was cleaned. Renee admitted to being impressed since the 4 year old was partial to cold-cut sandwiches with honey mustard on one side and ranch dressing on the other. She would normally fuss about eating anything else. Nurse Piano excused herself and continued about her duties. Renee stood and informed Hawke,

"Since I came over to watch her and she'll be sleeping, I don't mind if you head out Mr Hawke." She tossed him a quick salute and he replied with a much more informal thumbs-up. She shrugged and responded in kind.

Despite being in civilian clothes, Stringfellow clipped his Director's Staff Pass to his lapel and took the 'long way' to the helicopter pad. He had a lot on his mind and really wanted to clear it right now. When he entered the Security area, the guard who going to escort him complimented,

"Nice shirt Director." Hawke opened his biker's jacket to expose the printing on the front of the orange shirt. It was a rabbit with a baseball bat and circled by blue lettering _Van Nuys Jackrabbits. _Hawke removed the jacket and turned around to show off the lettering on the back which read: _Asst. COACH_ and below that in a slightly different color of blue lettering: _Division 2 Championship_. Hawke commented,

"Hard work, dedication, and a lot of good clean fun."

"You must be very proud Director Hawke." Came the response. Hawke nodded as he tapped his badge against the biometric reader and entered his ID number on the virtual interface. He looked at the escort and said evenly,

"Actually sir, the title is technically Deputy Director. The Special Projects Department doesn't get oversight from the boss, just a boss. As far as my team's win goes, as long as you have a goal you can achieve anything." Hawke's quick eyes caught the look of approval as the Security Chief gave the approval to his escort that Hawke had given sufficient information to pass the checkpoint.

To the casual observer, it may have seen like a pleasant conversation between colleagues. In reality, he'd identified himself, his department and and a bit of personal information. The manner and tempo of the conversation was also key since he was departing in his helicopter rather than returning to his personal quarters adjacent to his office.

His escort was handed an M4 as they continued through the next section of the security area. The hall curved to one side and there were a series of decorative mirrors along the curve. Hawke knew that he was being watched carefully through the mirror as he progressed. One false move on his part and the .30 caliber machine gun hidden behind the mirrors would be fired. This was why he waited until they were outside the far security door before he put his jacket back on. He made small talk with his escort during the 10 minute walk to the helipad. It was mostly about the weather but, at Hawke's prodding, the escort mentioned that his son had just started his third season in basketball. The team showed promise but other schools in the area had higher ratings. By this time, they were at the helipad and his escort deactivated the control that locked the Blackhawk to the floor. His escort dutifully waited until Hawke was airborne before reentering the facility.

He made his way back to Hawke Aviation. First, he headed for the coast and then took a leisurely path along the coastline. He wanted some time to think. Alone. He knew that KC blamed himself for what had happened. KC had claimed that if he'd been only 10 seconds faster, he could have changed the outcome. Hawke seriously doubted that. In his heart, Stringfellow knew that the blame rested on himself alone. For some unknown reason, someone had gone through a lot of effort to back him into a corner. It was an agonizing situation. The choices available to him weren't the most pleasant. At one point, he'd easily take the direct road to action but there was line he found not in his best interest to cross. He couldn't explain why. He'd made the promise years ago when he'd pledged to God and St John to pursue peace in honor of his brother's return. St John had informed Stringfellow that the pledge wasn't exactly binding since he could have returned at any time but felt duty-bound to complete the assignment.

It seemed to Stringfellow that as soon as AIRWOLF had been reborn in the guise of SKYSHARK, an inexorable chain of events had been put into place. So much change in so little time. The fact that deaths had come about was not a surprise since even the Bible dictated that blood was required of all conflict. This so-called 'sword' being an instrument of conflict was no exception. That was not the source of his concern. Where the path was taking him was where his interest was. The Bible was full of leaders and men of God who had been mighty warriors. Gideon, King David, Moses, and Joshua were all prominent men who had declared war in God's name and had blood on their hands. If he remembered correctly, all the male and female prophets/judges had the singular distinction of striking down the enemies of God with varying degrees of guile or violence. His brother's favorite story was of the prophet who called down fire and wiped out all of the enemy's prophets in one shot. His own favorite was the judge named Ehud who killed the evil King by hiding the fact that he was left-handed and that was where the knife was hidden when he was admitted for an audience.

This left Hawke with an interesting conundrum. In a couple days, the SKYSHARK teams assigned to protect the U.S. would be returning. He'd be placed in command and that meant that he would be obligated to pilot one of them. Especially now that the series of events had taken place during the training phase. The loss of even one pilot was a personal tragedy for his program, but having close to a handful of team members being lost due to either death or injury was clearly unacceptable. He couldn't address his concerns to the two people which mattered the most to him. He couldn't bring himself to ask to speak with St John during his conversation with Archangel earlier. If he had, he would have felt obligated to tell his brother about KayLy. Even worse, he couldn't ask Dom. Well, actually, he could but the Doc had told him it was medically unsafe. Stringfellow sighed deeply and his eyes began to tear up again. He didn't know which upset him more. Dom had lived a long, full life and had affected many lives for the better in the process. Kayra Lynn, on the other hand, was just beginning her life and…

Something in the corner of his eye snapped him out of his reverie. It was the new channel 12 news helicopter. He recognized Freddy Thomason courtesy of the pilot's baseball cap. The pilot had worked as the LAPD's _Eye in the Sky_ until some criminals who were escaping in another helicopter focused their weapons on his helicopter. In the ensuing test of wills with the LAPD brass, he had decided to cut his losses and get out while the getting was good. Thomason made a familiar gesture and Hawke changed his radio frequency.

"Howdy Stringbean, long time no see." The ex-cop greeted playfully. Despite himself, Hawke laughed and replied to the tease,

"Hello yourself, Sonny-boy." Both men hated what they had been called. Hawke continued, "What brings you to this neck of the woods? I thought you were headed to the other coast to chase down a job offer with the Feds?" It was Freddy's turn to laugh,

"No thank you! I had enough headaches in dealing with the bonehead brass of a police department which makes the Keystone Kops look competent by comparison. I don't think I could handle some of the stories I've heard about the 'Feebs'. Anyway, my wife was offered a job at the new TV 12 and she recommended me when the station owner bought a helicopter and needed it flown down. But then, doing things backwards has always been the story of my life." Hawke responded,

"I wouldn't know about that. You were pretty good backup for me at one time. If it weren't for the fact that you aren't interested in owning your own bird or doing contract work, We could put you to work. Especially now that we've had some trouble. You've no doubt heard about that."

"I heard that someone tried to rob your payroll and you'd just brought in substantial fundraising for Dom's charity. Speaking of which, how is his health problems doing with this event?"

"For the most part, that is along the lines of what happened. As far as Dom is concerned, he's in serious shape in a specialized facility. That's where I'm returning from. I also visited with my niece who was also hurt."

"Sorry to hear that. I'd heard through the grapevine that you had a new addition to your family."

"Much obliged. By the way do you what the difference between a cop and a helicopter is?" Hawke asked. When his friend replied to the negative, he laughed, "When the helicopter is put in its parking spot at the end of the shift, it stops whining!" His friend groaned in response.

"The sad thing is, that is actually more true than you intend. Well, I'm at my destination, give me a call the next time you're in town." Thomason requested.

"Consider it done, my friend." Hawke returned his old buddy's wave. Chatting with the former dustoff pilot elevated Stringfellow's spirits. He still was wearing a lopsided grin when he landed at Hawke Aviation. He headed straight for the office.

Upon entering the hangar, Ray stepped out from under the cowl of Nick's Bi-Plane. He came to attention and saluted Hawke. Hawke returned the Black man's salute and continued into the office. He came to a halt at the bottom of a pair of legs sticking out from under his desk. Reg was muttering to himself as he maneuvered his arms between the desk and the wall. More than a minute later, the youth seemed to notice that someone else was in the room and cautiously peered out from under the desk. Hawke gave him his standard glare with raised eyebrow. Reg cringed and stammered as he informed Hawke that he was just finishing putting the network back together. Hawke asked,

"What all did you do?" The young man replied,

"I just rewired the hardware. I wouldn't touch the setup, Sir. The one router was damaged by a bullet and had to be replaced. I also helped with mounting the new windows." Hawke nodded and stated,

"You're done for the day. I have some business to attend to. Go get yourself ready to drive me home. Tell your brother to close up shop." Reg nervously scooted from the office.

Hawke went to the safe and pulled out the iBook. He sent several e-mails and was going to respond to an instant message when he noted another which was tagged for Dom's attention and encrypted. He noted the username was a capital A so he guessed it might be Archangel. That didn't satisfy Hawke since the spy usually used the letter M in his messages. He put the laptop back in its place reluctantly. The conundrum troubled him all the way home.


	20. Chapter 20

They were closing in on Santini entirely too fast for his liking. He had turned back on his path 3 times and yet they still seemed to anticipate his movement. He had discarded the launcher but still had the survival pack. If his memory served correctly, there should be a river somewhere off to the east of him. He was proven right a few minutes later as he emerged from the trees.

Unfortunately for him there was a soldier at the bank of the water filling a canteen. Santini didn't break stride as he holstered his sidearm and drew his knife while charging the man. In one clean move, Santini circled his arms around his opponent, one hand covering the man's mouth while the other sank the knife into the man's chest. The man was caught completely off-guard and Santini used the momentum to roll them both into the water where he kicked his legs in a scissor motion to drive them into deeper water. A moment later, the man's body went limp.

Santini came to the surface and oriented himself. He looked and listened for a few precious seconds before he slid back under. He swam underwater for as long as he could hold his breath. When he left the water, he figured he was about half a mile from his destination.

The bad news was that he could hear gunfire coming from every direction. With no obvious choice presenting itself, he continued toward the HQ building. He encountered several opponents but didn't even change his pace or direction as he dispatched each one with a shot.

As he came closer another concern presented itself. He had no idea how he was going to approach without turning himself into a victim of friendly fire. Santini was running as fast as he could at an angle to the gate. There was scattered autofire behind him and heavy weapons fire coming from the guard emplacements in front of him. As he saw several Humvees racing toward the gates, he prayed,

"Dear Lord, this may be the most bizarre request I've made in some time but please let my IFF be waterproof!" All but one of the Humvees had gun turrets and they returned fire once they cleared the gate. The enemy fire was so intense that within seconds one Humvee had both of its headlights shot out.

An instant later, it seemed to Santini that the ground buckled. He nearly stumbled and it took an extra effort to keep on his feet, much less moving. This sensation was followed by an ear-splitting roar that seemed to overwhelm all his senses for a moment. It left him confused until he realized that an explosive had gone off near him and that had thrown up a wall of sand which had briefly enveloped him.

* * *

"That should get their attention." BISHOP commented as the missile he'd just fired destroyed the bridge which a handful of attackers were in the process of crossing. MAIDEN replied from behind him,

"Its a good start. Nick is in the clear for the most part. He was _danger close_ when you fired the missile but he came through it unscathed for the most part." She deepened her voice to imitate Nick. It was a pretty good imitation even though her Texas twang made it sound a bit silly,

_"That's one way to get a bang out of life! Whose side are you on anyway?"_ BISHOP laughed as he maneuvered for another pass. Under his command, the .50 cal and the grenades came alive. Suddenly MAIDEN called out,

"Incoming fast movers! Approach is from East-SouthEast. 2 MiGs and 2 Yaks." BISHOP watched as the information on his display coalesced into a layout which was more practical. He activated the impellers and seconds later he was within weapons range. BISHOP narrowed his eyes and frowned,

"We've got a real furball here. Let's see if I can even the odds." The Yakovlev design fighters were relatively easy to dispatch. This was simply because they had a munitions loadout designed to attack ground targets. _Bombs just aren't effective against flying helicopters _BISHOP noted to himself as the second Yak fell from the sky. MAIDEN muttered words of either encouragement or affection as he turned his attention to one of the MiGs. A line of tracers followed SKYSHARK and BISHOP grinned as the rounds sparked as they skipped off the armored windshield.

"Yeah baby, now the fun really begins!" MAIDEN popped a flare as the detector indicated a missile approaching. She sighed in exasperation,

"Honey, you have a strange idea of fun." She watched with hint of anxiety as the missile diverted to intercept the decoy.

With a thought, he switched from the .50 machine gun to the 20mm cannon. BISHOP held his fire until the MiG's jet engine and SKYSHARK's impellers had the two at point-blank range. The quick burst he fired cleanly severed one of the fighter's wings.

BISHOP cut the impellers and dropped the collective while snapping SKYSHARK abruptly around in a 90º spin. This maneuver not only caused the MiG to overshoot the helicopter, but also put SKYSHARK 'on the deck' which made it difficult for the fighter to target them among the ground clutter. St John hated one-on-one confrontations. When there were more opponents in the air it meant that they had to avoid accidental friendly-fire shoot-downs while attacking him. BISHOP held position as his opponent sped toward him, knowing that as soon as he started to move the MiG would be able to get a clean target lock. He could see and hear via his helmet that the lock alert continued to flicker. MAIDEN's voice was shaky as she advised,

"Uh honey, this isn't _funny_ anymore!" For a split-second he second guessed himself for thinking he'd waited too long as he watched ricochets begin to dance across the windshield. An instant later, his combat instincts kicked in and the fired the interceptor. The MiG disappeared in a ball of fire.

"I just hope Nicko left us some bad guys to shoot at. I haven't met my quota for the day." BISHOP said as he headed back to the HQ building. MAIDEN replied dutifully,

"There are plenty. I'm reading a third of the attacking force still in place." BISHOP forgot his own target practice as they got closer. The magnifier for his helmet easily helped him to identify the set of legs sticking out of the turret of a retreating Humvee as wearing a SKYSHARK jumpsuit.

Despite the distance, he could easily see that the vehicle was full of bullet holes. He could also see that, although there was plenty of incoming fire, the Humvee continued in a straight line. When it impacted the threshold for the gate, the driver's side mirror was sheared off and the vehicle lurched to the right as it continued.

The gates closed and SKYSHARK landed a short distance from the damaged Humvee. Nick emerged looking none the worse for wear. The Hawkes watched in surprise as he helped a battered and bruised Archangel from the passenger seat. St John helped the two men into the helicopter and then returned to the facility. When they arrived, Santini sighed when he saw Locke standing next to Johnston. St John smiled and commented,

"Not to worry Nicko. When Wayne offered to let us use his SKYSHARK, I informed Jason that if he had any arguments I'd gladly make his eyes a matching set." Caitlin looked at him in shock,

"You didn't…" Santini simply shrugged,

"I think I need a nap." He said it loud enough for Locke to hear and strode toward the residential area. Coldsmith-Briggs limped over to Locke, who was staring intently at the door Santini had just exited through, and sighed in a guarded tone,

"We need to talk." The black man's eyes narrowed as he looked at the one-eyed man and snapped icily,

"Gee; you think?!" Johnston turned to face the two men and smiled,

"Now children, play nice." While her husband did the post-flight checkup, Caitlin strode over and requested,

"What seems to be the problem?" Archangel responded,

"The training program has been finalized. The assignments were updated and issued about 12 hours ago. Cyrene here is a bit annoyed that we are running behind schedule." Johnston eased his cowboy hat back and cut in,

"We also think that we figured out the name of fool who is the cause of our problems. SKYSHARK 8 is missing and we think that the remote command which overloaded the console for unit 9 came from there. We also haven't been able to locate Jackson. We have Kent's name on the list of the personnel who were assigned to the recovery convoy but nobody remembers seeing him." Locke had been standing there patiently but now interrupted,

"Pass the word that we leave in 5 hours." He abruptly turned and left. Coldsmith-Briggs clarified by issuing orders,

"All work on the facility is to cease immediately. Prep all SKYSHARK units for departure. I know SKYSHARK 1 is still in bad shape but have it flight ready. Don't concern yourselves with combat readiness. In the meantime, BISHOP and JUNIOR are assigned to one of the reserve SKYSHARKs."

* * *

The departure went pretty much like clockwork. Everyone knew their jobs and the word had been passed that Locke was not in the mood for anything clever. Archangel had made the rounds to smooth any ruffled feathers. He had also confirmed assignments for those not rendezvousing with the aircraft carrier. With the murder of ALLERGIC and GRAVITY, a couple of personnel assignments had to be changed as well. Santini bid another fond farewell to his old comrade MacShane as SKYSHARK 5 was being assigned to the defense of the European theater by being stationed in England.

* * *

_Squadron Commander journal of Col. Saint John Hawke: We are now halfway home. Earlier today, my brother told me about the attack on Hawke Aviation and the resulting hospitalization of Dominic and my daughter. Both Cait and Nicko are understandably upset. I agree with String that it seems like someone has gone to a lot of effort to bring events together like this. Neither of us has a clue as to who it might be or why this point in time. Since we both agree there is no such thing as coincidence, I figure we'll have our work cut out for us once we get home. Speaking of Cait, it is taking some getting used to her new hairstyle. I have never seen her with hair this short. I have held off teasing her for the time being. She is still a bit frustrated about being shot down as well as our child being hospitalized. It has been a long week. The crew of the USS Ronald Reagan has shown us a very high level of hospitality during our trip. We had a gourmet meal with the Carrier's Captain and he suggested we conduct a DACT (Dissimilar Air Crew Training) just to pass some time. It was a fun time for all. The carrier's Wing Commander showed me there were no hard feelings by offering me a ride-along. I'd never been in a SuperHornet before and I have to admit it was a wild ride._

* * *

NOTE: This is the end of the second section which had originally been the story "SKYSHARK Down!". Now that I have let the cat out of the bag, I will clarify. In the original story, Caitlin MAIDEN O'Shaunessy-Hawke was the only one to be shot down by the traitor. Archangel defied Cyrene's orders and gets killed during the rescue. Michael dies in Caitlin's arms only moments before SKYSHARK arrives. As he breathes his last, he tells her "tell Alan I win the bet, now he owes us one". She is confused by this as Newman has suggested to her that his name is Allen and she also knows that it is either Dom's or Nicko's middle name. She then tearfully kisses him goodbye on the cheek. That said, it also means that he is the one to figure out the identity of their main enemy. (spoiler/tease alert) Unfortunately this revelation comes too late for one member of the team. This brings about a dramatic change for the crew and surprise plot twist.


	21. Chapter 21 Turnabout Gambit intro

Note: for those who are interested, I named the chapters for 'Turnabout Gambit' on my Palm Pilot so I could keep track of them--this chapter was originally titled "The Meeting" and I'll continue to place the chapter names in note form for the rest of TG.

* * *

_1900 hours, 'C' Ring Pentagon North. Orange door #3, Department of Homeworld Security, Chief Military Advisor's office._

_

* * *

  
_

"Gentlemen we have a very serious situation on our hands." The bald 3-star General stated matter-of-factly as he stepped out from behind the desk. The two men seated in the easy chairs noticeably flexed their thigh muscles as if to stand but the General casually found a seat in the couch across from them. The General's easy smile was disarming and somewhat unnerving to at least one of the two visitors.

Newman temporarily forgot about the black man seated next to him as he licked his lips to deliver the prepared report. Ever since the first time he'd met the General he'd never known what to expect from him. He knew the General had access to technology that was exceptional since, in order to have a recording of a highly-classified meeting which had taken place years ago, he'd had to have been in orbit since the Arctic base was secure and a 10 mile sweep had been done in all directions–including underwater. There had also been a satellite blackout and yet the General had greeted Newman by handing him a Disk containing the recording of the meeting. That greeting had taken place only weeks after the meeting but it had the desired effect by getting Newman's attention. And the General had been smiling that same easy smile he was wearing now. Newman nodded as the black man tightly murmured,

"Agreed!" As Newman took a breath to speak, the General began,

"The clone has proved his value. You have monitored his progress as well as continuing to give opportunity for the host to develop his resources. Do you believe that either has any suspicion about our activities?" The black man shook his head and glanced over at Newman. Newman steepled his fingers and rubbed the tips gently together. He looked over at the General and tried to match his smile as he said,

"None at all. The memory wipe and implantation done at the conclusion of his genetic engineering seems to have completely incorporated into his subconscious when he hit puberty. With the numerous tweaks we made, the host doesn't seem to notice his genetic twin interacts with him on a regular basis. The real test came recently when we interacted with the clone at another part of the facility. There was no sign of recognition or familiarity. There have even been a couple of occasions when we have set up incidents for the two to act together and independently. My esteemed colleague here has handled this aspect of the evaluations." As the black man was about to give his own dissertation, the General waved him off,

"That's all well and good; I appreciate your dedication and enthusiasm, young man. Fortunately, I have also been placed in position to observe him and am certain the clone can perform whatever task we place before him on an independent basis. The thing is, we have now come upon a situation where our original feed asset has called in a favor. It creates a unique problem for your people and places the resources of this command at a disadvantage." The black man spoke up at this,

"Wait just a minute! I was under the impression that I had free rein on this entire operation…" Newman shot him a look that silenced him. The General tilted his head slightly in such a way that he was was still looking at the man addressing him but facing Newman. The veteran agent's brows tightened as he spoke evenly. The General knew exactly what the cards were in everyone's hands so a cutting-edge bluff would place the enigmatic director at an uncharacteristic defensive posture. Newman chose his words carefully,

"Our agency concurs with the assertion of your authority in this matter. The unique training and experience achieved under your command is outside anything that we could have provided. This particular clone and other assets of similar makeup have proved their worth to national security. We have been working with the International Oversight Agency to ensure that the assets assigned to the civilian project are monitored. Aside from your successor with the concerned command, the clone is the most viable subject thus far. Even my subordinate who is the host for the program doesn't share the same amount of viability. It is unfortunate that you have had more success since the initial concept came from our agency." The General smiled again to easily interject,

" Actually the research came from a failed program initiated during World War 2. The Nazi _Übermensch_ program was ahead of its time but its failure was that it was inherently corrupt. Fortunately my people are not motivated by ego so it came down to successful employment of resources. This is the reason why we allowed you such broad latitude in issues of national concern with the host rather than insisting on a more straightforward approach." The black man spoke in a tone that indicated he was doing his best to put forth a genial demeanor but was actually not pleased with the gentle insult he had perceived,

"I suppose we should be grateful to you for that. We achieved considerable success during that time. It took a lot of hard work and careful planning to keep that part of our agency's operations running consistently and smoothly." Newman took over from his subordinate by saying,

"My predecessor was remarkably effective at the balancing act this required. Despite mostly acting under my authority, I got the distinct impression that he operated the asset with only a marginal amount of suspicion on the part of the team. The timing of our agent's return from the field was precipitous as well. The romantic interest that we helped to evolve made for a welcome distraction. It actually helped bring about the current iteration of your project's development." The General spoke up at this,

"That work is much appreciated. Our exchange has proven to be worth the mutual benefit. The enemies we are now facing are far worse than we could imagine. The resources you are developing are just keeping us at an even pace with our enemies. This is why I ordered the energy-based weapon reinstalled on all the active vehicles." The black man turned his head to face Newman and demanded in an arrogant tone,

"What gives him the right to…" He stopped and did his best to paste a smile on his face although that did little to cover the intent of his words, "We can certainly discuss that alteration of our tactical posture. In fact that was one of the topics we had wanted to bring forth as a long-term goal." Newman almost seemed to anticipate what was coming next as he turned to face the General and he switched from rubbing his chin with his thumb to extending his hand toward the blue-suited man. For his part, the General's only response was to narrow his eyes at his impetuous guest. He ran a hand over his bald dome and eased himself forward.

"Gentlemen this decision is not up for debate. The President himself has committed to this course of action on my recommendation. Our NATO allies need to be prepared in case the containment of our enemies should not prove sufficient." He said easily although the question was practically written on their faces.

_Containment?! Energy-based weapons!?_

The black man said something under his voice to Newman who replied that he _should probably ask the General_. For his part, the General simply waited for the younger Agent to subtly sigh and then ask,

"Our people are currently employing weapons which are generations away from being energy-based and even the energy assisted interdictory assets leave our opponents with no defense. I simply question the need to employ such valuable and expensive commodities if there is a potential for abuse as demonstrated in the first actual application."

"If you can maintain your current profile with Church Consulting, I don't see how it could create a problem." The black man bit back another sigh and subtly shook his head as he frowned,

"Therein lies the problem, General. We no longer have access to the female who was employed to gestate and birth the clone." Newman rolled his eyes and cringed inwardly. It was an archaic argument in a tired debate.

Both the military and the Government wanted access to the so-called _Supersoldier_ program. The military's program was accused of being a way of producing an expendable army of elite drones. The argument against the government's program was that it was ripe for complications. It proposed seeking out contractors to develop the program which meant that the various aspects of the development would come from civilian agencies who offered the lowest bid. It was the General's turn to suppress a sigh. He simply frowned,

"The murder of the woman on that infamous day was an unfortunate happenstance. Remember that she was a remarkably qualified volunteer which is why she was chosen to birth the clone. Until we are able to find another female, I'm not interested in entertaining reopening the access to the files. I fully realize this may come across as my reluctance to address this matter due to my personal involvement and interest as a member of the military establishment, but I have addressed this with the President and he concurs with my assessment. So I'm clearly acting as an Adviser to a higher authority on this. I'd certainly like to see further action on this given the success we have both had with the original. I understand the rapid growth program can be effected until just before the point of puberty and then the memory implantation process must be initiated?" The question was to get an air of geniality back into the conversation. It was one of the General's strong points. The black man did not seem enthused as his expression remained pinched but Newman replied somewhat cordially,

"Yes the process is amazingly easy as compared to the rest of the program. The clone has only been alive for a little over 20 years and we have yet to see any notable variations from the history we created. There are some of what we call 'skips' created by the learning process from the implanted DNA. Without allowing for these 'skips', it would overly complicate the process and it would be cause for constant genetic re-engineering of the clone in order to adapt the neurological pathways being created naturally. That aspect of the program almost makes me believe in God. We expected to have him be almost schizophrenic before needing a surgical correction. It is an interesting process but sometimes the science can seem almost like an afterthought. The procedures the military had put into place were at the same time both incomplete and exaggerated…" The black man and the General commented,

"The military is good for that by its very nature." The difference was that the black man said it with a sardonic frown while the General said it with his usual easy grin in a gesture of lightheartedness. Newman wasn't sure whether to chastise his coworker with a sharp look or to reflect the General's grin with one of his own.

The General took a long preparatory breath in through his nose and out through slightly pursed lips. All conversation came to a halt as the Church Consulting men knew that this was the moment of truth. They had agreed to this unlikely turn of events as a last ditch means to an end should the unlikely set of events confronting them ever come to pass. It was an odd irony that the program which created the clone was originally intended to prevent such a circumstance from coming to pass. The General looked from one man to the other and then his eyes narrowed as he glanced over to the file which was sitting in the center of his desk's top. The General raised his eyebrows and nodded his bald head as if he'd come to a decision. There was no hint of any emotion, whether he was apologetic about the decision or taking some sort of personal pleasure out of it.

"Gentlemen this is not an easy decision for me to make but I have to make it as part of our agreement. I think we should give the clone one final series of field tests as part of your final reckoning to determine if he is competent to handle solo missions. These field tests will determine his ability to lead as well as to act independently." Newman nodded as the black man began to blurt _"How does he know about…"_ but Newman cut him off smoothly,

"Understood. I agree because it is accordingly out of my hands. You do raise an interesting proposition though. Why we would both want further testing according to our own agenda. I'm guessing that you found out about the _Final Reckoning_ file and you wanted to discreetly call us out on it. Essentially, we are trying to bring about a break from his surrogate family using our specialized resources. From your expression, I can see that you are sure there is more to it than that. Actually we have a resource in place which we think may be compromised due to their unique influences as related to the program in the long-term. We have another resource in position to fill that role and I'm sure will fill your criteria nicely. He has worked for both of us in the past and has proven a good fit in agenda as well as capability."

"I will need to see the file on that at your earliest convenience" The General replied genially. The black man replied with a low growl,

"I suppose you'd like to see the closed file on the _Federal Interagency Resource Management_ final accreditation report?" The General shook his head and let a hint of something akin to annoyance slip through his next comment.

"No thank you, Son. I was there went they de-incorporated the FIRM's status. My associate Coldsmith-Briggs was forced into semi-retirement at that time. Since his position was now redundant and the project series he was responsible for was phased out in favor of another department's agenda due to the restructuring in late 2001. All of this went across the President's desk and there was a considerable amount of overlap between our respective mission profiles. In fact, there was some discussion of seconding some of your seniormost mission specialists to my authority." Newman started to say,

"Fascinating concept but it would…" The black man interrupted him in a near tantrum,

"Why would NORAD need an extended civilian population? The Air Force has plenty of resources at its _Groom Lake_ facility without having to construct its own Private Military Corporation. Besides our own relationships with entities such as _LaFiamma Inc._, _Maverick-Powers_, and a handful of other contractors and concerns has served us well. Bringing people in has always yielded better results that loaning them out. This way, we can keep an eye on our interests. Besides, our agreement with _Cruiser Corp_. had some strain when you offered positions to Drs McKay and Beckett for your long-term expedition when we were in the process of vetting them for a program of our own. McKay is as brilliant theoretician as your Carter but we have lost some advantages in the Advanced Research departments due to the loss of some of the work that was being pursued. You may think it is an overstatement, but the mutual investment should produce similar yields for all concerned parties. Blindly handing over an asset is nearly incomprehensible to me. Can we at least be afforded the courtesy of what we will be getting out of the deal?" Newman frowned and made a pained expression as he glanced at the ceiling in an effort to avoid rolling his eyes. He sighed,

"I know that our relationship with the military establishment can be a rather unique one at times. I do tend to agree with my comrade here in intent if not the way it was expressed. We do seem to be on the short end of the bargain in this matter. I'm sure that there is some kind of exchange that is on the table to equalize our investment? We also have some things that we'd like to entertain which are off-agenda for this meeting. These are planned for our next meeting when you come to visit us but we have brought the files along for your review. Any one of them could be brought to bear in this conversation. This agenda has always been mutually beneficial for all parties interested and we'd like to continue that relationship. Unfortunately in some cases, the means and the ends are mutually exclusive." The General held up a hand and responded,

"We have allowed for complete autonomy with the SKYSHARK program. We allowed development according to your timetable and even when it appeared that your trials at your facility had been compromised and met with failure, we did not intercede. If this is not sufficient, that is unfortunate but our mutual goals are being met by all estimates. If you are not in agreement, then you should have spelled out your concerns earlier. Your field personnel on location issued glowing reports to my people in the theater of operations which is why we agreed to modify the timetable when the incident occurred. It was our opinion the further evaluations should be held on our facilities. When the reports came back reflecting the heroic measures taken by all parties concerned, it was my decision that we opted for you proceed at your own discretion. I was facing pressure by others with equally pressing interests to err on the side of caution. Not that some of these programs don't have legitimate programs of their own. It took some wrangling of favors for some very influential Senators and Congressmen to get their own projects superseded. You two can't imagine how incredibly lucky you are. Since there is a war going on, it is much easier to flash some medals in someone else's face than it is to shine them on by force of personality and a fancy suit alone. Since your return to the states, I'm aware that you have constructed at least three more of LAKOTA design which have not yet been placed in the shared inventory of the SKYSHARK models available to the program. I can only assume that you are doing some special evaluation or preparing the airframe for design upgrade and research purposes. That is currently to your discretion, but I expect to be kept in the loop as I found out about these three quite by accident due to the requisition of certain materials. I'm specifically referring to the unique power source. I'm in the unique position to oversee all specialized equipment developed by the STARGATE program. The _NAQ mod 4 grade Echo_ is a very specific generator since it is currently the simplest and highest yield generator short of a ZPM that we have available. The fact that Area 51 had only one on hand of the other models while more than three, which is what you happened to requisition, of the latest design was a happenstance. They were delivered as a show of good faith on my part. I can guarantee that this relationship of convenience will continue as long as the trust which I have extended is responded to in kind." The General paused, his genial smile was punctuated by a glint in his eyes which seemed to indicate that he knew what was going on but expected the agents in front of him to make the next move.

Newman smiled in a sly manner toward his aide, who simply looked toward the ceiling, sighed, and frowned. Newman's gaze said it all _never expose your queen unless you know the other player's gambit puts them an equally precarious position and they can't make a move against you without you making a potentially devastating strike._ Newman had spent decades perfecting his chess game but found himself in a position where his newfound mastery of the game of poker was appropriate for the situation he was in. He wanted to bluff as the spy in him found it a perfectly acceptable tactic. However his knowledge of the General's tactics and resourcefulness led him to realize that this would likely lead to unfortunate repercussions.

He folded.

"We have an internal situation which has led to us to believe that a return to tactics which had served us well in the past would tend to serve us well again. This war hangs over all of us in authority over the defense of our nation and its ideals just like the sword of Damocles. Cold war tactics served us well during the double-brinkmanship against the former Soviet Union and its former Eastern Bloc allies. Right now, we have tenuous alliances with nearly half of the Warsaw pact countries. One of those is cleverly bargaining for entrance into NATO with its leadership making some incredibly benevolent yet covert overtures. Our main problem is that the UN is hosted on American soil which is not even a member nation. This has led to a _de facto_ 'cold war' within our own borders. As evidenced by the last election, this is in danger of escalating to another 'civil war' within the next decade by our best estimates. There are very few true patriots left who will rise up out of fear of being excoriated. Unfortunately those who do meet the challenge are met by ten voices who brand them as hate-mongers and heretics. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but a well-aimed bullet has proven to break many a pen. I know that your STARGATE program has formed several short-term expeditionary teams which put down a series of revolts which threatened to endanger NORAD. I know that there are several South American cartels who wield enormous power within their sphere of influence, but I know of no warlord who has sufficient reach to directly strike the US. From the look on your face I can tell that I'd likely be surprised at what your people have experienced. I have heard some stories through the rumor mill that some of the after-action reports are eye-popping intense. I find it fascinating since the intelligence community has been relatively silent on your work. It is an interesting conundrum since some of the technological advances to come out of your program are beyond the pale. I'm absolutely amazed that a program which has demonstrated limited overt results should continue to siphon funds from other projects. I'm curious how you managed to give the clone such a diverse training and development regimen when your STARGATE program seems solely dedicated to limited-engagement strike missions. I admit that I'm sure there is more to it than meets the eye since you have been able to divert $3.25 billion dollars for something referred to as the _PROMETHEUS_ project. On top of that, less than a year later you renewed the project but this time there was an update which changed the title to _DAEDALUS_. I understand that this project is in a continuous state of progress and changes and modifications are being made on the final product of this project. To divert such a significant amount of funding and keep the focus of the project covert is not only impressive but somewhat incomprehensible as well." The General seemed to smirk almost smugly when he asked,

"Would it help any to know that the clone has taken an active role in the _PROMETHEUS_ project? Or that, despite the project's termination, he was quite valuable in maintaining the integrity of the subsequent projects?" The black man spoke up at this with a look of amazement,

"A multi-billion dollar project has already been terminated? That is outrageous! Whose bright idea was that?"

"Not ours." The General replied with an abruptness which said that the topic was not one which was open for further discussion.

Both agents got the hint and did not press the subject further. The General looked at the two men seated across from him as if expecting something further. When nothing was forthcoming, he inquired,

"Was there anything else gentlemen?" The two men from Church Consulting glanced at each other as if there indeed was another subject they wished attended to but neither wanted to bring it up. After waiting for a few moments, the General stood and announced,

"Then this meeting stands adjourned." Some time later, as the two agents were seated comfortably in the back of an unmarked white limousine which was leaving the five-sided building's parking garage Newman gave his black subordinate a sidelong glance and sighed,

"OK, you've been chewing on something ever since we left his office. What's the problem?" The other man turned to face him and scowled,

"I just simply don't understand why you let him treat you so disrespectfully. We have every right to access those files. The military gave up jurisdiction over the clone and the so-called _'Eugenics'_ program when it decided to allow the clone to decide for itself if it wanted to leave active duty. Besides, the expansion of the genetic therapy and enhancement program meant that those without military training would become candidates if they showed certain predilections and that put them all squarely under our purview. I'm simply not thrilled that just because he has a few stars on his shoulders he is the one making the decisions. I'm left with the feeling that his mind was made up before we even got in there and if we'd had the temerity to put forth some of the items we had brought with us they would have done one or both of two things. The ideas would have either been summarily shot down or taken under long-term _advisement_ which would mean that he would taken them from us and locked them in a file someplace never to be heard from again." Newman shrugged,

"So you think he is being either arrogant, petty, or foolish. Standing on any one of those, you think this was a waste of our time on his part?"

"And I suppose you're going to try and convince me it wasn't?"

"Far from it in fact. Remember that when an opponent has the same vested interest that you have, at least put forth the appearance of giving him the benefit of the doubt." The black man nodded grudgingly and Newman continued, "For the record, I know first hand that the General is no fool. As far as petty is concerned, I won't bother with that since he is a Flag officer he can afford to be petty, whether out of ambition or self-righteousness. Where arrogance is concerned, its clearly not my place to say except that his personal accomplishments are singularly remarkable and he reserves the right to stand on whatever laurels he chooses to. He's gotten my attention on occasion and I'm convinced that it only scratches the surface. I know for a fact that sometime after he earned his second star, he was awarded the _Congressional Medal of Honor_ for actions involving the _PROMETHEUS_ project. From what I could gather, he held his position despite being vastly outnumbered in order so that a weapon of greater firepower could be brought to bear. For an officer of his rank that is no small achievement. Rules of Engagement dictate that it would have been in his best interest to clear out and leave the dirty work to a more junior officer. From your expression, I can see you think it may have been grandstanding which ran the day. I doubt that since he clearly had the capacity during our meeting but I don't recall him using any sort of bluster or doublespeak. I realize that politics and candor aren't complementary for someone in his position. However, you can think of it this way, he was in a position to brush us off and stick our noses in it but did not do so. I think that the adversarial nature of the meeting was to leave us all feeling that our backs were against the wall. I certainly feel as though I now have something to prove. If for nothing else than to show him that the clone's viability as an independent asset is more than simply a functional concept. We need to move up the timetable on our strategy. See if our resources can be brought to bear this week if possible. Especially find out if tomorrow would be too soon to initiate this project. I realize it has been quite some time in the making but for this, I'm not really inclined to be patient. If they want to issue a challenge? Well, then……"

Newman narrowed his eyes and got an enigmatic smile on his lips as he laughed mirthlessly.


	22. Chapter 22

Note: the original title for this chapter's notes was "Archangel's Discovery"

* * *

The picture filled the entire wall.

It was a picture of himself and Merella taken on a beach. Michael couldn't remember which beach it was, but he vividly remembered the when.

It was nearly 6 months to the day before the FIRM ceased to exist as an institution. Following the most unusual election in US history, the powers that be decided to hold a conference. There was not much conferring, rather it had been a thinly-disguised all-expenses paid vacation for all of them.

After some favors being called in, Michael had managed to get Merella assigned to a Temporary Duty station back at the FIRM for the duration of the 'conference'. On the third day there, he had asked someone on the beach to take a picture of the two of them.

Neither of them had been in the water as yet so Merella's hair was as perfect as it had ever been. Her red bikini was nicely figure-flattering.

That day she had confessed she simply wasn't satisfied with the Pentagon assignment and was going to seek a new line of work once her contract was over. She had completed her Ph. D. and she had heard about a teaching position opening in the fall which was hers if she wanted it. She was going to be senior aide to a Professor who was currently on a long-term expedition sponsored by the military. He was due to return in mid-September and then most of his time was going to be spent working on a research grant.

Michael had asked her if she had ever considered leaving the business altogether. This had led to a rather interesting discussion as to just what Michael's motives were in asking such a question and what plans he had in mind for her.

He made a few adjustments and the picture went from a life-sized rendering of the two of them to an image of her face which was now almost 8 feet tall. He glanced up slightly to look in her right eye which was now the size of his head. Those beautiful obsidian eyes! Those sensuous ruby lips! That flawless coffee & cream skin! The teeth which were as perfect as a string of pearls! The flowing raven hair! How Michael missed them.

A familiar chime sounded and he tapped a button on the controller to hear Jo Santini announce an incoming call. He had been expecting this call ever since he'd returned stateside but his gut still wished it hadn't come so soon. He answered in even, professional tone as he turned away from Merella's image. He had to bite back a sharp retort when the caller didn't even extend the traditional courtesies.

Strictly business. A nasty one at that.

He already knew what was coming. This contingency had been planned for more than a decade ago. It had been his idea at the time and it had been a clever way of covering their tracks and cleaning up any mess in case the carefully-laid plans somehow went awry. Now he had a personal investment in the situation and one word from him could compromise the whole agenda.

"Inform team Lynx they have a go. Break the seal on the _'HockeyPuck'_ file and proceed at your own discretion." He paused as the voice responded with the required information. The voice on the other end made a comment to Archangel that was not entirely appropriate given the subject and he had to censor himself as he nearly uttered an epithet before replying. It was a bit more heated a response than he'd planned, but his stomach was in knots just now,

"Yes I understand the ramifications! I wrote the file! It is not your concern who the target is or what their position is. These orders come with the highest authorization. If you check the last page, you will see the authorization code is _ultraviolet 2_. It may be a nonstandard code but the orders were written in a time when we were more concerned with intelligence analysis than active interdiction." Coldsmith-Briggs' jaw muscles tightened.

The man on the other end of the line wasn't accustomed to dealing with information which was so far out of date and he had no qualms about revealing this fact no matter the consequences. There was a long pause and then the voice gave out a series of reply codes. He also voiced his protest on issuing an active protocol against someone who was his superior. Michael growled _Confirmed_ and the line was disconnected.

He wanted to throw the phone through the nearby window.

It wasn't actually a window, it was called an _'offset prism'_ since it distorted the image behind it to make it appear as though it were several centimeters to one side of where it actually was. The technology had been developed as a counter-sniper effort for the White House and was now used on other Federal buildings as well.

Gathering his temper, he set the phone down. It was a little bit harder than he'd intended. This caused the controller on the edge of the desk to fall off and flip over after landing on the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael saw the image shift in response to the controller. He sighed heavily and muttered an apology to the dead woman under his breath. He walked over to the wall and was going to reset the picture when he noted something odd.

The magnification was still the same, only the location had changed. He was now looking at an extreme close-up of Merella's right hip. Michael's mouth went dry and his hand began to shake as he set the controller down.

His mind was racing at the implications of what he was now looking at and he softly whispered,

"Oh, Merella!" He knew she had been on a special assignment in relation to the progress of the AIRWOLF program as part of her Pentagon assignment in the year before her murder. That was what probably had led to what he was now seeing as a fresh revelation just barely visible at her bikini line due to the extreme magnification of the viewer over a decade later.

_STRETCH MARKS!?_


	23. Chapter 23

This chapter was originally title 'String's Day'. I wanted to focus on Stringfellow and who he has become. I also wanted to focus away from the action for a chapter. Since my plan to stir things up by the radical change in his life by the taking on the position which came with the title JUDAS seemed to fail, I washed over it instead.

* * *

"…Now, this may seem counter-intuitive but firing the Impeller full blast is not recommended. Especially during combat operations or at lower altitudes. I designed them to cruise at higher altitudes given the STEALTH capabilities. The impeller is actually designed to 'pulse' during combat. This is to maximize control. The control turbines which drive the impellers are situated higher on the center of gravity which means that, in the thicker air, it is inclined to fly in somersaults. The turbines are not disengaged when the impellers are fired. This means that you can force a compression stall if you insist on pursuing an escaping target too far. I cannot impress enough that the _IM_pellers are driven by the same twin turbines as the _PRO_pellers. You cannot overspin the props though. The tailfan is not a concern but the _HISS_ High-Impact Sound Suppression feature of the main propellers means that the airflow must remain constant if not consistent for flight operations. Remember that the generator is a design on loan from the space program. Just because you cannot overload it doesn't mean that you should try. Not to single anyone in particular out but you all know who I'm referring to!" There was a round of laughter at this.

The meeting wasn't actually necessary but it was required due to the funds diverted to the program. There were about a dozen in attendance, with another six following via teleconference and four using the SKYSHARK's internal comlink.

JUDAS continued for another half hour. There was a brief question and answer session but it mostly covered old ground.

Three of the SKYSHARK teams had seen action in the past week but the after-action reports were still unavailable for general consumption. It was ironic since the recording of the incidents were already downloaded to the simulators for training use. It was a necessary evil since the theory and actual field application were completely unique. Judas knew this from his personal experience with being the reserve test-pilot for SKYSHARK.

It actually took nearly two years from when the prototype was built to when it was considered combat and distribution ready. The production model had to be returned to 'drawing board' phase three times. It was thought that the combat load determined why the SKYSHARK was 12.5 percent larger than the Bell 222B airframe. It was actually for combat viability in an aeronautical sense.

Following the Q&A, Judas opened the floor to his program advisor, Archangel.

Coldsmith-Briggs lectured on the political sensitivities of employing the SKYSHARK. The helicopter was still not yet acknowledged publicly so it was to only be employed as a stealth covert first strike platform. On special occasions, it could also be called on to provide a support role. The latter role was only called upon when the plausible deniability could be established due to the fog of war. Already the operation in Iran had been credited to a squadron of National Guard Apaches.

Archangel spoke for nearly half an hour before he dismissed the class. Once the room was emptied, Judas and Archangel left for their respective offices. They shared the majority of the walk in silence but when they came to the end of section _Green 3 West_, they parted company. Archangel's office was in _Yellow 1 North _while Judas' office was in _Yellow 1 South _the corridor they were currently in was the dividing line for the 'T' intersection. Archangel paused as he started to turn and said,

"I had my people assemble 3 reserve SKYSHARK units from the spare parts we had left over. These 3 are not on the official list of our inventory. You are welcome to go down to the warehouse area and tweak them as you see fit." Judas looked at his comrade, pleasantly surprised and commented,

"Well that is a welcome change of pace, I was thinking that I was stuck with the modifications which had been made. I know that some of the recommendations made during the training mission would restore equipment back to my original design. How ironic is it that field personnel came up with design modifications that actually were the original design before the bureaucrats got their hands into the equation? I appreciate the gesture. I'll get changed and head down there now." Archangel replied casually,

"Just remember this the next time I ask for a favor…" Judas narrowed his eyes and groaned _I just knew there was a catch _as he shook his head in resignation. He then shrugged his shoulders and turned away from Archangel after sketching a quick salute. For his part, the one-eyed spy returned the salute and called out,

"I'll be by to see you in a while. Don't have too much fun Stringfellow." Judas didn't slow his pace or turn around as he gave a thumbs-up before turning the corner. He made a beeline for his office and changed out of the white suit. He noted it was the ultimate irony that his team wore mostly white as most of their dealings were on the razor's edge of _shades of grey _and one of their government contractors actually adopted that aphorism as their working name. But as Dom had once suggested in a rare poetic moment _"its all black or white there is no grey, for every color someone's got to pay!" _and the truism held.

He laughed to himself as he got into an old jumpsuit that he didn't mind getting dirty. It felt a bit snug and it wasn't until he stepped out of the closet into the private washroom that he noted it was his old AIRWOLF flightsuit! He let out a couple of the binder straps and the pressure suit felt more comfortable. It had been years since he'd worn this and it still fit for the most part. He kept in top flying shape so he was a bit more muscular than he'd been all those years ago. At least that was what he convinced himself it was. But gravity had taken its toll during those years and his belly had taken the brunt of that effect, he was forced to reluctantly admit.

He stopped by the cafeteria on his way to the auxiliary hangar and found himself the recipient of some strange looks. Every time he looked up, everyone furtively looked away though.

He had a private laugh at this.

Even the Zebra security team didn't know what to make of it. The General, who had been a Captain during Hawke's AIRWOLF days, openly stared at him as if trying to determine the best course of action. General or not, he didn't dare approach a member of the Directorate without an exceptionally good reason–and even then he had to make an appointment first!

Hawke finished his piece of pie and then set his fork down with what appeared to be a simple flourish. In reality, he'd surreptitiously signaled the General to approach. The grey camouflage-clad commando strode over, his stoic expression indicating he had no idea what to expect. Hawke downed half his glass of chocolate milk in one swallow and brusquely nodded toward the empty chair across from him. The General took the invite at face value and smoothly sat down. He asked the jumpsuit-clad man on the other side of the table,

"What can I help you with, Director Judas?" Hawke smiled an easy half-smile and replied casually,

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. It seems that everyone has an odd fascination with me today. I know I bathed earlier so that can't be it." Hawke smiled at his own self-deprecation. The General reflected this with a small smile of his own. He then tilted his head and intoned,

"I think it has more to do with your attire than anything else in all honestly. Not many people remember the _FOXWHIP _program which birthed AIRWOLF, REDWOLF, and the aborted SCORPION model which was later modified under your authority. The flight suits are similar enough but just unique enough so that our Logistics crowd is having their interest piqued." To allay the growing expressions of curiosity, Hawke chuckled and the General replied in kind while wagging a finger in the air at his boss. Hawke shrugged,

"That never occurred to me in all honesty. I'm just going to do some maintenance and this old getup seemed to be the perfect outfit for the task at hand. Since I'm likely to get a little messy and this jumpsuit is not something I really bother with anymore."

"That is a shame sir, since those were days when things were…more colorful to say the least. My job was a whole lot different back then and not just because my boss was my mother. I wish that we had a museum here because that outfit would be a perfect addition. But from that look on your face, I'd be willing to bet that putting this little piece of America's cold war unconventional covert history would create more raised eyebrows than the ones I'm getting from chatting with you while you're wearing that outfit?" This actually elicited a laugh from Hawke as he responded,

"I don't know which is more impressive. The fact that you got that all out in one breath _or _that memories of a bygone era would actually hold any interest to anyone in our profession!" Without thinking, the General shrugged,

"Well I realized my dream as a Stealth fighter pilot early on in my Air Force career. A so-called _training accident _curtailed my piloting days forever. I transferred to Hurlburt Field in an effort to join the Special Operations community since I was grounded anyway. In a strange turn of events, my security rating from the Stealth program afforded me unique liberties and got me some welcome attention. General Durkin had gotten permission to increase the FIRM security presence from 50 to 175 so that he could specialize unit training. I actually found out that day that my mother was aide-de-camp for internal operations here at the facility. I had always thought she was an MP at an Air Force base. Despite my subsequent rise through the ranks, I've always been a pilot at heart. What I wouldn't give to even wear a flightsuit again much less than to sit in the pilot's seat of an F-22 Raptor. I'm simply admitting to be a bit jealous of you wearing that getup sir, nothing else. The suit you are wearing may be older than the one I wore but it is easily at least a generation or more ahead of mine. I apologize for my verbosity but it is not often I get asked for my opinion by someone of your stature." Hawke shrugged the platitude off. He took another sip of his drink before he responded,

"I'm just another working class man who made good with the tools he was given. Just because I have a cryptonym from the least favorite Disciple does not elevate me to any sort of godhood. I know that when the _Olympus Committee _things, demanded reverence from everyone. I may still work with Archangel but that is where we differ on our approach and viewpoint to our work. I'm going to do you a favor and have my brother get in contact with you. St John may not have a fancy title attached to his moniker; but, like you, he's a hotshot pilot who is equally as slick with a gun in his hand."

"Thank you sir…perhaps I can convince him to let me get some stick time in. I understand that he's in command of the field team for the SKYSHARK program?" The General winked. Hawke merely shrugged. That was something that the General would have to discuss with St John. Stringfellow left it alone as it could be seen as crossing a professional line. He was not given to playing favoritism but he liked to reward those who demonstrated excellence. It was one of the life lessons he'd learned over the past few years once he'd become an administrator.

Dom had hassled him about it in good fun. It was one of the things which had changed about him and he harbored a secret concern that all this time hiding behind a desk had resulted in him compromising his so-called 'edge'.

He made every effort to lead by example and when his people were in training, he stood alongside them. He had nothing to prove, except to himself, but he believed that earning the respect of one's subordinates was more important than beating them into shape. When watching the miniseries _Band Of Brothers_, he'd modeled his own leadership style after the _Winters _character. The _Sobel _character was a complete idiot. That kind of leadership was only useful when you needed to break those under your command, such as in the movie _Dirty Dozen_. Hawke admitted he was biased in that opinion since he felt that Lee Marvin was a far superior actor than David Schwimmer, especially when it came to that type of role. Marvin's character was edgy and tough, whereas Schwimmer's was whiny and constantly seeming as though he was trying too hard to prove himself.

The hard part for Hawke was that his current position was more of a political one and that fine line needed to be drawn somewhere. This is the reason why he didn't bother to salute when he rose from his seat.

Hawke made his way over to the hangar from there. It was 2 floors up and 3 sections over.

All 3 of the SKYSHARK units had the same black-on-grey paint scheme as their predecessor. Up close, it was obvious that coloring was more of a happenstance. The _RAM-Stealth _coating for the armor plating made the color 'appear' to be a dark graphite. Certain sections even had a micro-gradient which lead to them 'appearing' to have a matte finish.

Hawke mused that was another way the two designs differed. AIRWOLF had been sleek and shiny, her beauty hiding her true nature. SKYSHARK was imposing, as powerful as she was sharp, and anyone who faced her knew exactly what they were in for…a _very _bad day!

Hawke started by removing the dorsal plating. The feeder line for the forward sensors was wrapped around the housing for the two turbines. This was based on the theory that it would force the computer to filter out extraneous vibrations by adding in the helicopter's own vibrations all across the spectrum. It was based on a theory the Soviets had employed in some of their own high-impact workhorse helicopters. The success had proven marginal for them, but it had gotten the attention of someone in the USAF's Research & Development and a half-baked theory had gotten greenlighted.

Hawke further mused that it was akin to Darwin's theory of evolution being taught as fact while the contradicting law of entropy was ignored, as were the rest of the Laws of Thermodynamics. Hawke was not necessarily an adherent to evolution. Just because a theory sounded good on paper, did not mean that it worked in reality.

Much like the Soviet theory on high-impact stress vibration. The problem with the application of the Soviet theory was that it was only designed to be incorporated on the models used in heavy lifting.

Similarly, as Hawke understood from his own reading, Darwin's theory stated that females and those of any ethnic heritage were genetically inferior. From working out with Ray, Hawke knew this to be a fallacy. Despite the fact that the black man had only one complete leg, he could run faster and further than Hawke. Much to his chagrin, Hawke could say the same about Renee, despite the fact that the woman was a junk-food junkie and never seemed to have any energy since she was always had such a low-key personality. He never saw her exercise but she could keep pace with him with what seemed to be relative ease.

It took Hawke more than 2 hours to pull the feeder line for the sensors all the way out.

He really wasn't interested in taking the starboard weapons pod apart just to unhook the line since it ran between the ammunition linkages and brackets.

Instead, he'd started by disconnecting the feeder from the fiber-optic connection behind the Engineer's console. He'd spend 5 minutes gently pulling until he felt resistance and then he'd spend 10 minutes switching between a 'fish probe' and a set of extra long-nose pliers.

One time it had gotten stuck and he'd gotten annoyed at the lack of results. He'd sat upside-down in the Weapon's Tech's chair with his head and shoulders awkwardly under the console's access panel and reached as far 'down' as he could. With his left hand, he grabbed the housing the plug was stuck on and pulled himself up as far as he could. With his right hand, he felt along the rows of ammunition until he found the line. He grabbed it firmly and yanked hard. At first he was concerned he'd break the line but his lack of grip meant his hand merely slid along until it connected solidly with the edge of the ammo enclosure.

All those years of combat aviation and this was the first time he'd ever gotten blood on the AIRWOLF flightsuit!

He sighed and shook his hand. This time he wrapped the cable around his hand twice to ensure a good grip. From his awkward position, he yanked and then pulled hard. He could feel the fastener dragging along the dampening material and he twisted his arm as he began to reach the end of his pulling length. Hawke tried to wrap his hand again but didn't have the leverage. His left hand was getting tired but he wasn't sure how much slack he had. Instead, he dropped his handful of wiring and reached back up for more and pulled firmly. He did this twice more until he pulled all of it free.

Now he could easily climb on top of SKYSHARK and lay the wiring the way it was supposed to be. He ran it between the turbines and then across the infrared exchangers and over the baffles for the exhaust manifold. As he progressed, he recalibrated all the tolerances for the internal equipment modules.

While eating an early dinner, Hawke sat at a terminal and went over the specifications with a fine-tooth comb.

When the _BrainTrust _had reevaluated the design for the SKYSHARK, they had repeated a stupid mistake from the Vietnam era. Somehow, it had been figured that AIRWOLF would have outmatched its opponents far better if it had superior firepower on its 'deployable' munitions. In other words, missiles were superior combat weapons than employing dogfighting tactics.

Hawke waited for the turbines to heat up so that he could evaluate the heat transfer to the new wiring setup. While waiting, he calibrated the internal mockup and realized that he now had an additional 5% of unused space. He waited for more than half an hour, but the thermostat came nowhere near the redline. He shut off the turbines and, in a flash of inspiration, removed about a third of the insulation and buffer material. This increased the thermal and vibration reading by marginal amounts.

Following a brief discussion with security, Hawke increased the power to the point where he could lift off and he did a quick orbit of the hangar before returning to his parking spot. He waited several minutes before landing and returned the power levels to where they had been before.

He grinned at the Security Chief who smiled back while the rest of the Security team appeared to sigh in relief. It was obvious that the 3 of them were discussing something amongst themselves.

Hawke pretended not to pay attention but their body language indicated that he was more than lucky that, although his rank was that of a Major, his title held considerable weight.

Several minutes later, there was a gentle yet firm knock on the cockpit door. Stringfellow peeked out from behind the Weapon's Tech's station. Seeing a uniformed female wearing Colonel's insignia, he exited SKYSHARK and asked how he could help her. She smiled thinly and requested,

"Director Hawke, if I may have a word Sir?"

"By all means Colonel Rush." He replied with an easy grin while wiping his hands off before returning her salute.

She was a plain and powerful looking woman. She had earned the respect of her subordinates but now paused to evaluate how she was going to address Hawke. He was her subordinate by military grade but her superior politically. A verbal misstep here could be a career killer.

Deputy Director Hawke seemed to sense this and he smiled easily as he waved a dismissive hand while remarking,

"At ease Colonel. If you have something to say, spit it out and change it later. In all honesty, ma'am, I've never been one who is much for formality." Her expression indicated she seemed both relieved and annoyed by Hawke's sentiment. It was understandable, she was used to being in charge. She was also used to setting the terms and using her force of personality to stay there. Hawke's personal charm and self-actualizing nature easily cut through her demeanor. She maintained her professional composure even though she allowed herself a small smile as she spoke,

"There was some concern expressed about your little tour of the hangar. Some of the equipment we have stored here is quite sensitive. It would have been preferable if you had informed us of your desire to go mobile and we could have easily accommodated you. I personally recognize the value of the SKYSHARK and its associated program and understand the need for upgrading and improving the design. It has been suggested that the modular design could yield a change in the way you work on them. I know that field repair is facilitated by the modular design so it was noted that the same might hold true in this case as well. What say you?" Hawke nodded and chewed his bottom lip as he absorbed her words and considered them.

Dom had said much the same thing years ago when Stringfellow had all but disassembled the signature Santini Air JetRanger. He had done it to give the helicopter a tuneup on the day before a major Belisarius production was requiring the beginning of its aerial footage. Admittedly, SKYSHARK was in considerably less pieces than the patriotically-themed Bell helicopter had been.

He figured the amount of trouble he got himself into was directly proportional to the number of pieces the vehicle was in.

Dom had all but blown a fuse while the Colonel had done her best to remain amiable while her eyes reflected some form of inner agitation.

Hawke guessed that it was simply in her nature while she was on duty. It was certainly nerve-wracking for him since that perceived agitation was almost intimidating to him on some level. He resisted the urge to step forward and assert his authority. That would have been counterproductive and she was more heavily armed than he was.

He must have telegraphed his thoughts as she moved her FN SCAR battle rifle to one side as she grinned widely. She was actually quite cute after a fashion. He would never have considered her to be _pretty_ as her features were very strong and angular. She also carried herself in a determined and authoritative manner.

Hawke mused that she reminded him of the stereotypical Nazi SS woman from propaganda-esque war films. Except for the short black hair and muscular physique, she could have been a ringer for the Tasha Yar character from _STAR TREK: The Next Generation _series. Hawke tilted his head to one side and admitted,

"I guess you have a point. I am just so accustomed to having things my own way that I simply went ahead and did what I needed to do. I'm doing some testing here and I figured that as long as I didn't leave the property it would not cause a problem." She recognized that he was being absurd and laughed. She nodded in response,

"Yes that would have been problematic to say the least. I would have been more than happy to give the shoot on sight order myself. Without the shielding I doubt you would have gotten very far either." Hawke laughed but something seemed to click in his mind. Uncharacteristically, he put on his most apologetic expression and replied,

"Would you forward my apologies to your team and please let them know that they are free to address any concerns to me. I'm not so far up the chain of command that I've forgotten that I have two ears and one mouth–which Secretary Santini always reminded me that means I should listen twice as much as I speak." This elicited a small smile out of the uniformed woman he was addressing. He began to turn to face the control center next to SKYSHARK but continued speaking, "Also let your people know that Administrator Coldsmith-Briggs will be joining me briefly." Reaching up to the ear which was just barely touching the edge of her tan beret, she activated her earpiece and announced,

"Attention hangar personnel! Please prepare for the arrival of Administrator Archangel. This is an advisory as issued by Director Judas." She clicked off and came to attention. Hawke noted this out of the corner of his eye as he was manipulating the controls to activate the personal communications control. He did a smart about-face and matched her salute. She politely excused herself by stating _Good day sir_ and matched his about-face before marching away.

Stringfellow quickly keyed his passcode in to contact the Church Consulting operator. Within moments, he was in contact with Michael and informing him that he needed to see him at the hangar where the reserve SKYSHARK units were being housed. Twenty minutes later, Archangel was standing next to him.

"What was so all-fired up important that it had to pull me out of a meeting with Newman…not that I really minded having an excuse?" The one-eyed man asked with a wry half grin. Hawke replied tight-lipped,

"We have a serious problem. Remember how, during the _SKYSHARK Down! _incident we were unable to track the attacker? Take a look at the Engineer's console of the reserve unit in the center." With a shrug Michael climbed into the helicopter in question.

While waiting for Archangel to arrive, Hawke had replaced the body panels on the port side of the SKYSHARK he'd been working on.

Once Archangel had disappeared into the back of the other SKYSHARK, Hawke climbed up onto the port weapon's pod and sat there. Moments later, Michael peered out from the aft compartment of the adjacent helicopter with a perplexed expression. Judas simply raised a hand and waved at him. Archangel ducked back in and came back out less than a minute later, shaking his head with same expression on his face. He approached and laid a hand on the impeller before looking up at Hawke and demanding,

"Why does the terminal insist that only half of this SKYSHARK is here and, on top of that, that you are sitting in midair!?" Stringfellow jumped down from his perch and admitted,

"That's the crux of the problem. All of the work I put into this program and the production redesign gives it an inherent weakness. I restored this one to my original specifications and it is now impervious to sensors and scanners. It was not a ground attack or an airborne high-energy weapon like the ZAT which struck down our two lost units. I think it was one or more of the missing SKYSHARK units which was modified by someone who was familiar with the original specs." Archangel muttered an epithet under his breath. He ran a finger along his mustache several times and pursed his lips before he spoke.

"My meeting with Newman was due to an odd bit of intel that came across the wire only hours ago. One of our contractors was delivered a clean package yesterday. It seems that our secret is out and someone is a bit ambivalent whether we are aware of that or not. Whether it is Kent and Jackson or if they are working for someone else is irrelevant. Someone else is pulling the strings that much is for certain. Neither of them have the requisite skill set to pull something like this off. They have had just over a week since the breach and that is not nearly enough time put all the pieces into play. The head of LaFiamma Inc has said that he wants to meet with us to go over the particulars and I think it is a reasonable idea." Hawke's expression said it all _what do you mean, you think?_ "Our problem is that someone along the line has decided that they needed a safeguard in place and has placed a price on your head. I realize this may be nothing new to you but the timing disturbs me and a couple of our contractors echo this concern. If we can determine anything from that package, it may be the vital link we need to cut the head off this faceless serpent that has been hounding us." Archangel concluded. Hawke shook his head,

"Michael, I'm still not completely convinced that setting up a meeting according to someone else's criteria is the best way to go. Too many things can go wrong and that is the way people get killed."

"Believe me, I know."

"Really? How can you? Can you honestly tell me that you had a simple mission go completely wrong just because of a matter of lousy timing? That someone who depended on you ended up dead because you overlooked something, made an honest mistake, or…"

"Yes!" Archangel broke in with a frown. Surprised, Stringfellow was left with nothing to say. He tilted his head to one side and arched an eyebrow as he narrowed his eyes. Part of him wanted to believe that the unflappable one-eyed spy could try to once again bluff his way out of anything.

That is, until the white-suited man in front of him spoke again.

"It has been about 20+ years since it happened but it feels like yesterday. About 5 years before you entered the CIA's contracting program as a test pilot, I was working with the Colombian underground in Joint Drug Interdiction Task Force. We were called the _Untouchables_ and only a few select people outside the actual program knew who we were and what we were doing. The General only knew we took orders from the President and that our after-action reports were to be cipher-sealed _Most Secret: Secure Interest_ and delivered top priority, no questions asked. We were quite successful, to say the very least. Several of the lower-end links in our enemy's chain all but went to war with each other, thinking that their problems were internal. We fed that rivalry since we thought that the war on drugs could be ended by having the teeth bite each other off. Of course, one part of the plan which wasn't taken into account was the son of the ringleader. He was as smart as he was paranoid. Though not a US citizen, he'd become a Police Officer in one of the Texas border towns. When he returned home, he convinced his father that the so-called 'gang war' was something that the American Government liked to propagate to throw the next generation into disarray and to ensure that all non-whites got into prisons as fast as possible. It was all a bunch of Conspiracy-Theorist mumbo-jumbo. But it got his father's attention. The ringleader ordered that anyone who did not stop the infighting would have his whole family suffer. It worked only too well. One of our primary contacts was running for elected office and either someone got a tipoff, or there was a very lucky guess, or sheer paranoia got him killed killed the day before the election. His office was thrashed and some papers went missing. By themselves they were inconsequential but we decided not to take any chances. Several of us had cover stories related to military duty and our families were with us. I had opted not to use my last name but instead to use Briggs, which was my wife Violetta's last name. Unfortunately, so much traffic going through the airport got the wrong kind of attention and the ringleader sent some spotters to see what all the activity was about. Fortunately I had gotten out and set up our luggage to go out the next day. I pulled a few strings and had my wife, our 14-year-old daughter Amie, and our 2-year-old son Jason slated for the same flight. My mistake was that I'd forgotten it was a MACV-SOG flight and someone thought it was a bit too odd for their liking and the plane was taken down by a Surface-to-Air-Missile right as it got airborne. The only person I have ever told about this was Merella and I waited too long for her. When she was killed, I was in the process of trying to convince her to leave the Pentagon job as a prerequisite of proposing to her. Speaking of killing, that was the subject of my meet with Newman. It seems that whoever has it out for you has opted for a more covert stance. We just got wind through channels that a hit has been called for you. My source confirmed it as a favor to you and their only notification was a message: _Terminate with Extreme Prejudice, S Hawke_. I wasn't sure whether it meant you or your brother–or perhaps both, for that matter. But Newman told me straight out that one of his sources specifically mentioned your rank rather than your first initial." Hawke pursed his lips as if in thought for a moment and then murmured,

"Not the first time a threat has been called in on my life and I'm sure it won't be the last. Well, the freshly-minted General Hawke and I have been able to handle just about everything which has been thrown at us with only a couple minor exceptions. I'm sure that, with this 50 foot long flying swiss army knife, we'll more than keep up that tradition. From that look on your face I gather there's some bit of minutiae that you aren't telling me?" Coldsmith-Briggs nodded,

"LaFiamma Inc is our primary resource for communications intel and he informs me that they were able to track part of the message's transmission in real time. They'll hand over the information they have to you. No questions asked. I can tell by your expression that you are about as thrilled with this idea as I am…" Hawke laughed humorlessly,

"This expression is not my _thrilled_ face by any measure of the word, my friend. I've never been a big fan of working, either directly or indirectly, with our contractors. They always seem to lead to trouble for some reason."

"So true. But then their very nature is to bring the problem out to the forefront so it can be dealt with. Your problem, String, is that you have become too accustomed to working things out covertly. This despite your claim that you prefer a direct fight than always sneaking around. I myself like to have something out in the open once in a while just so that I can see what my results are. I've already confirmed the meeting with LaFiamma's people so that part is already taken care of. Just do me a favor and keep the keys for the SKYSHARK handy just in case." Stringfellow nodded wordlessly; he didn't have to say anything as they were both thinking the same thing.

_Even an ally can set a trap…and those are the ones which are more dangerous!_

Archangel gestured with his cane at SKYSHARK and asked,

"Have you documented your modifications? Because I'd like to have the techs familiarize themselves with what you've done so that we can start to retrofit all of the units to meet this standard." Deputy Director Hawke nodded and then informed the other man that the modifications were simply a matter of restoring the equipment to the originally planned specifications. What had taken him 4 hours would likely take 2 men a little over an hour.

After another few minutes of small talk, Stringfellow busied himself at the terminal making notes on his work. With a typing speed of 95 words per minute, it took him a little less than 20 minutes to complete the task. An hour later, he found himself exchanging the AIRWOLF flightsuit for casual suit and tie. Danielle, Renee, Nick and he were all going out to eat.

Stringfellow had a gut feeling that it was going to be an important evening for some reason.


	24. Chapter 24

Note: This chapter was originally titled "Double trouble at the cabin". I wanted to spotlight KC's so-called 'SuperSoldier' skills one more time. This chapter highlights the first attempt on the lives of the Hawke family as events begin to climax.

* * *

"There's String's helicopter. Looks like he might beat us to the cabin after all Cait." KC announced over the low roar of the motorboat. She laughed in response. KC throttled back as he pointed the boat toward the inlet which led to the lake next to Hawke's cabin.

Caitlin stood and made her way back to the duffel of supplies and busied herself. She sat down in the stern at looked up toward the front as she took in the familiar surroundings. KC was just a silouhette from her current position. Beyond him, the setting sun was just beginning to turn orange. They passed through the inlet at an easy clip and KC nudged the throttles back to their original position as they progressed toward the dock next to the cabin. They made their way along the winding river to the access to the lake. As they made the final curve before the entrance to the lake, KC called out,

"Something's wrong, the 500 isn't at the dock!" The only thing Caitlin heard was the purring of the motorboat engines and she could not yet see past the foliage to get a look at the cabin. Once they entered the lake, she saw that KC was indeed correct. The Hughes 500 with its distinctive Hawke Aviation logo was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only thing Caitlin could see was two figures running across the short distance from the cabin to the dock carrying weapons.

She went from standing at the base of the boat's control cabin to diving into the back of the boat. There were four weapon cases there with weapons her husband wanted displayed at the cabin. She grabbed one and tore it open. It was the restored AK-47. She loaded it and brought it to her shoulder as the men on the dock prepared some kind of shoulder-fired rocked launcher.

She opened fire but it was too late.

Her aim was thrown off by a sudden surge from the boat's engines right as the launcher was fired. A moment later the engines died as the explosive charge connected with the cabin opposite from where KC had been. She continued to fire but at her range, the Kalashnikov had limited effectiveness while firing on full-auto. She decided that perhaps a good run was better than a bad stand when she saw one of the men stand up and bring the launcher to his shoulder again. She saw a plume of smoke from behind the attacker and realized the weapon was aimed directly at her! Caitlin dropped the weapon and made a grab for the duffel as she made her way to leap off the boat before the explosive connected.

* * *

When KC had first seen the two men fire the launcher, he slammed the throttles forward. His reflexes and timing were flawless. The problem was that the boat's response time was not similarly instantaneous. The boat leapt forward but it wasn't enough. It had simply changed the point of impact from the bow of the boat to the…

KC jumped through the raised wheelhouse's side window as the explosive connected with the other side of the enclosed area. He got a glimpse of Caitlin returning fire with one of St John's assault rifles as he broke through the glass and felt the heat of the explosion behind him. He took a deep breath as he cleanly sliced into the water. He took a couple strokes toward the shore away from the cabin since it was much closer. Even though the light was beginning to fade, he could see it was featureless enough to be a problem so he changed tactics. Still underwater, he heard the autofire from the boat come to a halt and Caitlin awkwardly toppled into the water the instant an explosion rocked the boat and turned it toward the shore near the dock. She hit the water with a splash and seemed confused for an instant until KC grabbed her waist and oriented her.

* * *

Caitlin had grabbed the bag and tried to get the leverage to throw it over her shoulder as she went overboard. When she prepared to make the jump, the explosion tore the duffel from her grasp which spun her partially around. She hit the water on her side with a stinging splash. The sudden awkward landing caused her leading ear to pop from the sudden pressure change. This left her disoriented and she hoped she could figure out which way was up before she was spotted by the attackers.

A strong pair of hands caught her in their grip and turned her partway around. She looked down and saw KC's determined countenance. He pointed toward the now barely-visible dock and gestured for her to make her way there but to stay under the water. Caitlin was a very strong swimmer and immediately launched herself in that direction.

A couple minutes later, they were almost at their destination and she began to take notice that her lungs were beginning to ache. She looked over to where KC was keeping pace with her _he's been under longer than I have–he must be out of air by now!_ She could just begin to see the dock in the growing dimness. Her lungs were beginning to feel as though they were on fire but she kept pressing on. She was almost to the dock and felt the relief wash over her as she came within arm's reach of the end support post. Caitlin looked back and noted that KC was still right behind her. To her hypoxic brain, it seemed as though he was progressing at a very leisurely pace with no sense of urgency at all.

Now that they were at their destination, she was starting to realize just how bad her lungs were aching. They were still swimming along the bottom which had them at about 15 feet. She began to slowly ascend but didn't want to break the surface too abruptly.

From the lack of oxygen she was feeling very confused. She imagined that when she eventually did reach the surface how sweet the air would taste. Her oxygen-starved brain was having difficulty focusing and her vision began to narrow. A knot of panic formed in her gut and she paused in her progress. The part of her brain which knew that her attackers were waiting above the surface locked her body up for a moment and chose the _flight_ rather than _fight_ option.

Caitlin Hawke was just short of 10 feet under the water when she lost consciousness!

The part of her mind which was still registering input from her senses imagined her reaching the surface. She released the Carbon Dioxide from her lungs in order to breathe in the oxygen. A strange sensation was noted as she could literally feel the air bubbling from her lips.

* * *

Stringfellow had been about to land when something looked strange to him. Despite the deepening shadows from the setting sun, he spotted two vehicles which had been cleverly yet poorly hidden.

There was an SUV which was behind the cabin under the eaves of the back porch. The dark vehicle was intended to appear as just another shadow but Hawke knew from years of experience just how the shadows fell and the unusual shadow stuck out like a sore thumb to him.

The other one was under the tree next to the cabin's parking area. That one was better hidden but the men anticipated and came at him while he was still in the air. Stringfellow twisted the cyclic to increase power and yanked the collective to the right. The Hughes 500 responded immediately to his touch and he disappeared from his attackers' view in an instant.

He hugged the surface of the lake as he came around to the far side of the property where St John had set up an emergency landing pad. It had originally been intended a landing spot for the Blackhawk, but they'd never actually brought that vehicle to the cabin. He came around the far side of the property and approached the emergency pad from the direction opposite the lake. This caught the attackers' backup completely by surprise. As he flew overhead, flying so close to the ground that he sent them scattering for cover, several of them opened fire with handguns.

Hawke grinned at their valiant yet futile gesture. When he began to clear the last little hill before the pad, he pulled up hard and cut power. The instant he landed, he bailed out and made for the edge of the clearing with his pistol drawn. Stringfellow could hear at least one engine approaching him but could not tell which direction it was coming from. Upon reaching the edge of the clearing, he pulled the cover off a small pit which was concealed by the underbrush. Inside was a motorcycle and a weapon's case. He withdrew an MP-5/10mm and a vest which contained spare magazines. This submachine was different from the one he had at the house in that it had a collapsible stock.

The motorcycle came to life with an immediate roar. Stringfellow gunned the engine and then whipped past the attacker's car as it entered the clearing. The sedan spun around and attempted to follow but the path that Hawke had chosen was too narrow for the vehicle to follow. When Stringfellow left the path through the underbrush a moment later, he could see the cabin a short distance away. He could also see the two SUVs leaving their places of concealment to come barreling at him!

The two vehicles were right next to each other so Hawke fired at the area between the two. It had the desired effect as the two started to separate. Hawke figured that if he timed it right, he could slip between the two…if he got lucky; _very_ lucky.

Then something happened that usually happened only in movies. One of the SUVs must have hit a rock or a fair-sized hole as it suddenly went up on two wheels and started to spin. This turned into a rollover tumble and Hawke found himself facing the full length of the side of the vehicle racing toward him in an uncontrolled roll!

_HOLY……!!!!_

In desperation, he kicked the rear of the motorcycle into a powerslide. This left everything but the front wheel mere inches off the ground. The vehicle filled his vision as it flipped over him and he could feel more than see how close it came to him!

* * *

KC had been keeping pace with Caitlin. He could have easily rocketed forward but he wanted to stay even in case she ran into trouble. He could hold his breath for nearly 10 minutes or another 2 minutes beyond that if really pressed. Nick's limit was about 7 minutes, by comparison. He mused that she must have never been a smoker by how strong she swam and how much endurance she had.

Caitlin was within arm's reach of one of the support poles when she suddenly spasmed and made a move as though she thought she was pushing of the bottom.

He instantly shot forward and prayed he wasn't too late as he saw a cloud of bubbles come out of her mouth. He grabbed her head and sealed over her lips with his. KC pinched her nose closed and kept a firm grip on the back of her head.

She was struggling but it was weak. He allowed her to take a shallow steady breath from him until the panic subsided. As she breathed out, her eyes fluttered and she she wrapped her arms around him in a firm embrace. Suddenly, her eyes flew open wide and the press of her lips became more firm, almost passionate. For a moment, KC became almost intoxicated by her presence. He knew that she loved both Hawke brothers dearly and he understood that since he felt a kinship to both as well. As part of him nearly indulged in the exchange until he realized, _in her hypoxic delirium, she's mistaking me for him…_ and this brought him back to the stark reality. After giving her just enough air to do what he planned, he broke contact. Using Sign Language, He told her what to do next.

* * *

Caitlin was about to breathe in the sweet air when a powerful grip took hold of her head. Although unconscious, she was somehow startled enough that she paused for an instant before breathing.

It saved her life.

For some reason, the air wasn't coming fast enough. She realized that something was covering her mouth and she tried to shake it off but didn't have the strength. Once her mind began to clear, she realized what was going on and a million thoughts began to flood her mind.

One of them was a memory from an old undercover mission when she and Stringfellow had masqueraded as a married couple. They had shared a passionate kiss on that mission…

Suddenly, her mind cleared just enough to realize that it was a set of lips connected to hers and they seemed somehow strangely familiar…

_STRING??!!_

Her eyes flew open wide and she peered deeply into eyes which held that familiar passion and determination. That was where the familiarity ended; instead of the familiar blue-grey, these eyes were hazel. As she gained more and more awareness, she realized that it was KC and he was breathing for her. How he was doing so was a mystery since he'd been under longer. For some reason, she couldn't shake the sensation she'd first had of the memory when she'd kissed Stringfellow. It unnerved her.

He gave her about half a lungful and then pointed out the wreck of the motorboat which had floated to shore not far from the dock. He told her to swim under it and then hide in the tall grass on the other side. She acknowledged and then he took off like a shot. By the time Caitlin had arrived, her lungs were once again beginning to ache. She broke the surface near the back of the boat and then almost lazily dogpaddled around to the front. She was completely out of energy and her muscles simply did not want to respond. She got to the grass and rolled over onto her back. Her legs and half her torso were still in the water. She was tired beyond exhaustion. Minutes later, she heard noises on the far side of the boat, likely from the area of the dock. She wanted to draw her sidearm and help KC out but simply did not have the energy. The air tasted so delicious as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth.

She made a conscious effort not to cough as her tortured lungs embraced the fresh air. The effort made her not only dizzy but a little giddy as well. She actually giggled as she heard the sounds of what was obviously KC going into action.

* * *

Stringfellow had allowed the rolling SUV to collide with the sedan. This had resulted in both vehicles being crushed. He'd fired off a long burst as the remaining SUV skidded into a 180° turn. There was no return fire as he gunned the cycle's engine and made for the cabin. He came up the driveway just in time to see KC finish up with two opponents on the dock.

As soon as Hawke was in the open, KC drew his firearm and spun around. The younger man tracked the motorcycle's progress for a moment but did not fire.

To Hawke's surprise KC instead leapt off the dock and ran into the tall grass nearby. Stringfellow barely even registered that his sister-in-law was nowhere to be seen or, for that matter, that the motorboat was on fire.

* * *

Although hampered by clothes which were completely soaked through, KC made relatively short order of the two men on the dock. The first was taken completely by surprise while the second had seen too many movies.

KC didn't even bother to think about what he was doing as took the two men on. His body was at the limits of its own natural endurance and what he referred to as his _"SuperSoldier autopilot" _was taking over. He was the point where he had to start regulating his own resources or he could burn himself out–literally and figuratively. He almost didn't realize when his ears picked up the sound of an approaching motorcycle. Without thinking, he drew his .45 and aimed it.

Despite the growing darkness and distance, he recognized Hawke and held his fire. He could hear another vehicle racing up the drive behind Hawke as well. It sounded like a big-block SUV but the engine sounded strange. Likely Hawke had nailed it with the submachinegun draped across his chest. Figuring his boss could handle his opponent on his own, KC reholstered his pistol and returned to check on Caitlin.

* * *

Hawke leapt off his motorcycle and set himself up in a crouch at the end of the porch right next to Jo's wheelchair ramp. Once the SUV appeared, Hawke opened fire in short, controlled bursts. Halfway to the cabin, the vehicle sideswiped a tree and came to a stop.

The tree was partially uprooted and that annoyed Hawke as that tree had been placed there to commemorate Tet's burial spot.

With a deft move, Hawke reloaded the weapon and began a steady pace down the ramp to go across the lawn and check the SUV.

He didn't get far.

Once he got to the bottom of the ramp, the driver's door opened and a man stepped out with rather large weapon in his hands. It took Stringfellow a split-second to realize what it was and the implication.

The man hefted the weapon to his shoulder and fired. Hawke was an instant behind.

Unfortunately, distance was a great disadvantage for Hawke. His sustained trigger pull ate through most of his ammunition before the missile cleared half the distance to the cabin. Hawke got little satisfaction as the man jerked in an odd little dance as several of the rounds actually struck him. The shooter was dead before his rocket struck the cabin near the end of the porch. Hawke was so angry that he forgot that he was intending to lay prone and instead went airborne. He did a less-than-acrobatic flip and landed flat on his back spread-eagled. This kicked the wind out of him and he lay there for a moment, completely dazed.

* * *

KC had just finished slinging Caitlin over his shoulder when the explosion punctuated the sound of autofire. Seemingly oblivious to Caitlin's bulk, KC took off at a run to the cabin.

There was a rather large hole in the area of the living room. It was easily 15 feet in diameter.

Forgetting that he was carrying the exhausted Caitlin, KC charged across the small clearing in a matter of seconds. This elicited a gasp of surprise from Caitlin. KC was praying in the back of his mind that Hawke hadn't been inside the cabin when it had been hit. So intent was he in his desire to search the cabin's damage that he forgot to watch where he was going and nearly tripped over Stringfellow Hawke!

He laid Caitlin down next to her brother-in-law and sat down. He was sweating and starting to breathe heavily. He took in a few breaths and then asked his boss how he had ended up in such an unusual position. With a half-grin Stringfellow replied,

"Well I'm AIRBORNE trained and it had been such a long time, I figured I'd go _airborne_ again!"


	25. Chapter 25

Note: This chapter was originally titled "More 2x trouble at the cabin". I guess that I like writing the 'KC as SuperSoldier' aspect. I decided to mix things up a bit and use St John in this chapter. Please excuse the continuity error, I was writing several chapters at once on my Palm Pilot and realized my mistake well after it was too late.

* * *

"Well SKYSHARK is safely tucked away. Now what have you accomplished so far?" St John asked as he strode into the front of the damaged cabin. His expression fell as he glanced around and had to admit to himself that he was more than a little impressed by the amount of work KC had completed by himself in less than an hour.

Much of the damaged area had already been moved outside and put into a pile. Much of what remained was things which needed repaired or replaced, such as the entertainment center.

KC grabbed another oversized piece of wood and effortlessly chucked it through the hole from the explosion. St John paused and gazed at the pile in admiration. He knew that Nick was genetically enhanced but Hawke doubted that even Santini was capable of such fantastic feats of strength! KC was barely even sweating when he paused to take a drink of water.

KC turned to face St John who was looking of the pile of electronic goodies to see what could be salvaged and asked,

"Yesterday when I was being trained on the SKYSHARK, String kept referring to a 'Lady' and comparing her to SKYSHARK. What's the story or am I biting off more than I can chew?" St John laughed and shook his head. He grabbed a Pepsi out of the fridge and sat down across from KC. Hawke took a long swallow and then cleared his throat before speaking,

"The term 'Lady' refers to AIRWOLF, a project which was the predecessor to SKYSHARK. There is a huge difference between the two though. That is why my brother is not thrilled with flying the SKYHARK model. He was the main pilot of AIRWOLF and literally gave her its personality. That is why we had you train on SKYSHARK even though you are a fully capable pilot. If you were to pilot it right after I did without the training data in its programming, it would yield interesting results. As Dom used to always say _The lady is a Cold War menace_ since it had such a unique mission profile as compared to other assault/attack helicopters. Just like SKYSHARK, AIRWOLF was a flying Swiss Army Knife with teeth. But that is where the similarities end. I never got a chance to fly AIRWOLF but String, Cait, Dom, and Nick all say it was quite similar to flying the Bell 222B that we use for Corporate transport contracts. AIRWOLF was essentially based on the same 222B airframe with some internal modifications so that it could be a _Wolf In Sheep's Clothing_ as its mission profile called for a covert operational stance. Not so for SKYSHARK. Sometimes the best deterrence is simply the mere threat of power being present. It is obvious that SKYSHARK is bristling with combat potential while all of AIRWOLF's capabilities were internalized. In order to be established, combat systems had to be deployed first. It made for an interesting conundrum with my brother and your former boss." KC nodded,

"I remember Nicko telling me about the AIRWOLF on several occasions. It was quite the source of fantastic adventures. Some of which were unbelievable until I actually experienced what the SKYSHARK could do. I'm amazed and impressed to say the least." St John heaved a piece of wood onto the pile and shook his head as the other man did the same with a considerably larger and bulkier piece. Hawke laughed,

"Speaking of being amazed and impressed, you seem to be able to pull off some rather unique maneuvers from time-to-time." KC nodded and made an odd expression. He then shrugged,

"I was part of an experimental program that treats field personnel. The difference between Major Santini and myself is that I was born with a certain set of genetic markers that the program employs. Nick had to undergo a series of Gene Therapies in order to make himself compatible. The net result is virtually the same and the program insists that we have identical capabilities but I have noted some subtle differences. Like the level of endurance and reflex speed. He's also mentioned to me that it sometimes feels that he employs his natural abilities and when he wants to go _'SuperSoldier'_ it is like he has to turn on an internal switch of some sort. With me, I always feel as though as though I'm swimming downstream in a river of adrenaline. It almost reminds of a Spider-man comic when he mentions that against normal criminals he has to pull his punches out of concern that he'll cause more harm than good." St John replied,

"I hear that, my brother and I have developed unnatural combat instincts and it sometimes would spook the other soldiers. Speaking of _spooky_, Cait was commenting on how you saved her life. You were underwater for an incredibly long time. I guess that's all part of your training regimen?" KC nodded and grinned. He started to add something but Hawke got an odd look on his face and held up a hand in a universal soldier's _HOLD_ gesture. He murmured,

"Rotary inbound!" KC turned to face the hole in the wall and responded after a brief pause,

"Four of them in fact. One is at a higher altitude and is a bigger bird which is coming straight in. The other three are smaller and are following the terrain along the river." St John laughed and rolled his eyes.

The conversation they had just shared was one which had been often repeated at various times during the time they had known each other. St John had always been amazed by KC's accomplishments so he would bring up the younger man's background from time-to-time.

St John strode over to one of the paintings along the wall and slid it out of the way to reveal a series of slat wood pieces which had "_STRINGFELLOW_" engraved into them. St John deftly and rapidly thumbed the slats to spell out _"STING" _and the section of the wall opened to reveal a small collection of handguns. Next to each gun were various attachments, such as laser sights or suppressors. Beneath each gun was a small drawer.

KC reached over and opened the drawer beneath the Colt .45 which closest matched his. He grinned as he withdrew 4 of the 6 loaded magazines which the drawer held. St John plucked a second Sig-Sauer .40 from the collection and likewise grabbed some spare magazines as KC stuffed his spares into his back pockets. Being left-handed, St John also grabbed a right-handed spare holster for the second gun. As KC stepped back, Hawke asked,

"No backup gun? Just in case?" KC shook his head,

"No thank you. I've poured hundreds of thousands of rounds through this baby and she's held up just fine. It may be a bit silly, but I've kind of grown fond of it so I think I'll stick with it for the duration."

"I understand implicitly. Whatever works, works. I'm going to get my brother's motorcycle and the submachine gun he has stowed over at SKYSHARK's landing pad." St John replied as he left through the hole in the wall at a brisk pace.

Hawke knew that if he pushed himself, he could break the 4-minute mile by nearly 10 seconds. Just like his brother. As he dashed along the path he thought about the rumor that KC and Nicko could beat even that time by nearly a minute. Hawke seriouslly doubted that as he'd gone jogging several times with Santini and his friend had always worn a knee brace and stopped the exercise after 5 laps of the hangar.

The one time when Nicko had taken off the brace, St John had marveled that the ex-AF commando could still walk. He had an ugly scar that went nearly all the way around his knee. There was about 2 inches of undamaged skin just behind and to one side side of the knee. It completely grossed out Jo when she'd been told that her brother's knee had hyperextended and torn during the crash. In simpler terms, the knee had bent sideways so far that the skin at the joint had ruptured from the trauma. Hawke even now marveled that his friend was able to walk much less even having a complete leg after that.

Minutes later St John paused to catch his breath at the covered SKYSHARK. He paused to consider whether he had the time to uncover SKYSHARK and get her airborne.

The decision was made an instant after he got the door open.

A helicopter appeared above the tall grass and St John dove into the back of SKYSHARK. Peeking over the console, he realized it was the larger bird, likely acting in a 'command and control' capacity. It was coming in slowly and maintaining a height about 100 feet. It also had a sensory mast over its main rotor.

Smoothly and carefully St John activated a couple of key systems. Passive sensors seemed to indicate the other helicopter's detectors were not focused on the area around SKYSHARK. This was good, since it indicated they had taken no notice of his mad dash. He hesitated to close the main door even though it compromised the stealth properties. Such a move would likely attract the attention of the movement detectors.

_Not a good idea_

He carefully avoided activating the targeting scanners as he turned on combat mode. He wondered how fast he could launch a missile from the ground but thought better as his mind raced for options.

Every second that passed he was leaving KC alone to deal with the threats provided courtesy of the other 3 helicopters.

Something tickled the back of his mind that he'd once seen in a movie. Actually a movie based on a video game…or perhaps it was the other way around? Hawke proceeded to put the pressure-sensitive qualities of the main monitor to good use.

He selected the helicopter in a separate targeting mode, overlaid the viewer for the minigun, and then programmed in several 5-round bursts along the helicopter's flight path at random locations on the target body.

At least that was what he hoped he was programming it to do.

St John was sweating.

He'd been cleared on the simulator but what he was attempting to accomplish was well beyond what he had been trained for. He suddenly realized that his knees were beginning to cramp. He was still in the kneeling crouch peeking over the Engineering station. He eased himself into a seated position in the chair he had crammed himself in front of initially. He took one last look at monitor, going over everything in his mind to ensure he hadn't forgotten anything. He stabbed his index finger at the _enter_ key on the station's fold-down keyboard.

Nothing.

He tapped the key again, this time twice and a bit harder. Still nothing!

In a near-panic, St John began frantically searching the panels for something he may have missed. His attention was quickly arrested by a flashing light next to the control key toggle which was intended to provide for a redundant control in case the touch-screen failed. It was essentially a mini-joystick. The flashing light was just above it and was labeled _LOCK._ St John laughed in spite of himself and shook his head _its always the simplest things which are overlooked_…

He tapped the key and the M-134 Minigun came to life, spitting forth a series of .30 bursts. The joystick itself seemed to be doing a type of epileptic dance for a few seconds as it took control of the weapon. The helicopter fell from the sky, shredded.

* * *

KC didn't even pause to wonder what was taking his boss so long. He was too busy fending off helicopters of his own.

The first one had been deceptively easy. He'd stood at the edge of the tall grass near the cabin and when the helicopter had shown, he'd fired off several rounds into it. At first he'd thought he'd missed as his target swerved off to one side. When it continued to swerve and then impacted the surface of the lake he realized he had made the mark yet again.

The second bird made a beeline for him and he broke cover to run for the opposite side of the cabin. They obviously were not only _not_ expecting that kind of tactic, but also clearly unprepared for him to move that fast. They completely missed and, when they came around, they were looking in the wrong direction.

KC leaned around he corner and snapped off 2 quick rounds. The first round impacted on the cockpit so he figured he'd get the pilot's attention by firing the second round. It went where he'd figured by the placement of the first round. It nearly knocked the headset off the head of the pilot. The helicopter came abruptly around and twin rows of autofire traced along the roof of the cabin toward KC.

For his part the young commando ran up the steps leading up to the porch and with a mighty heave, leapt atop the porch roof. He stayed low as the helicopter abruptly broke off its path and spun around to confront him.

This turned out to be a bad move as St John chose that moment to appear. Hawke brought the motorcycle to an immediate stop and swung a leg around to dismount. In a crouch, Hawke emptied a clip at the helicopter as fast as he could pull the trigger. One of the door gunners fell to the ground, dead.

Hawke did what was called a border shift as he dropped the secondary gun and drew the other one to quickly transfer it to his shooting hand. Still shooting, Hake picked up the dropped pistol and dropped it into a holster. He then took after the helicopter on the run imagining himself as the _Martin Riggs _character from _Lethal Weapon_. Almost without thinking, he reloaded the weapon single-handed while following the fleeing helicopter on the run. Halfway through the clip, he ceased firing as he watched KC perform another awesome feat of acrobatics.

When he'd spotted Hawke starting to fire on the helicopter, KC had rolled to far side of the roof of the cabin. When the door gunner had been shot down, he'd charged the helicopter at a dead run. The pilot had decided to put some distance between the helicopter and the opposition but had made one critical mistake by not increasing altitude. KC had taken advantage of that mistake by taking a running leap at the landing skid which was still only a slight distance above the roof while on the move. He leapt and wrapped an arm around the skid just as he reached the end of the roof and held on. Much to the surprise of the remaining door gunner, KC reached up and fired 2 rounds into the man's chest. Despite the body armor, the point-blank range of the .45 rounds took the door gunner out of the fight temporarily.

KC then emptied the rest of the clip into the overhead of the helicopter's cabin. Smoke began to pour from several of the holes and the engine began to produce a screeching whine. From about 30-40 feet above the water, KC let go of the skid and did a feetfirst dive.

The final helicopter made its appearance at that moment and began to open fire on the location where KC had entered he water.

With a quick mental apology to his brother, St John grabbed the motorcycle and kicked it to life. This was yet another stunt he'd seen on a movie which was presumably _Busted_ by MythBusters. The helicopter was hovering about 15 feet above the end of the dock and Hawke was driving the cycle toward the dock with throttle wide open!

Halfway to the dock, Hawke did a 'wheelie' and came up to where he had the rear wheel on the ground and one foot on the cycle's seat. If he aimed and timed it right...

The instant before the motorcycle hit the dock, St John let go. Part of the dock was level with the ground while a portion was not. Years of erosion had rsulted in a 4-inch step on one end of the dock. This is what St John had aimed for.

He watched in satisfaction as the riderless vehicle hit the 'step' and flipped end-over-end as it went airborne. The target helicopter's pilot spotted it too late. The flaming mess of twisted metal impacted with the surface of the lake nearly simultaneously with the helicopter that KC had shot down. Minutes later, KC's head broke the surface not far from where the helicopter he'd shot down had gone under. St John waded out to help the other man out of the water and asked,

"Where's the pilot from the other bird?" KC shrugged as they trudged toward the shore,

"Right where I left him but he's no longer a concern."


	26. Chapter 26

This chapter was originally titled "Hawke Aviation firefight redux". Originally there was more action in it but I spent so much time on character development I decided to have the violence left as an apparent afterthought.

* * *

"Mind if I join you guys on your run?" Caitlin asked as Danielle finished her stretching. The platinum blonde beauty slid her hair through a ponytail holder as she smiled,

"Fine with me Cait. How about you, Ray?" The Black man limped over with his running prosthesis and shrugged nonchalantly,

"You're the boss. As long as you can keep up with a one legged man." Caitlin looked at him for a moment through her aviator's sunglasses to see if he was joking. Unfortunately, the former Army Ranger's face was nearly impossible to read. He extended a hand to help Danielle to stand up and she graciously and elegantly accepted.

With a smooth and acrobatic flourish, she spun, twisted, and leapt to her feet. She landed on her toes like a ballerina and then curtsied to her helper. She slid her designer sunglasses into place and said to nobody in particular as she gestured in the direction they were going to jog,

"Well honey, the more the merrier. Shall we?" They made one circuit of the main building of Hawke Aviation. They then made their way around the abandoned warehouse on the next property.

The corporate landlord had developed a grudging respect for the charitable outreaches being performed by the Hawke and Santini families. Since the warehouse was empty for the most part and had no existing owner they were allowed almost exclusive access to the building.

The three made figure 8s around the two buildings for nearly an hour until they came to the door marked _EMPLOYEE ENTRANCE_ near the back of the Hawke Aviation building. This is where they came to a stop. Ray opened the door and got three bottles of water from the cooler just inside. All three took a long drink before Caitlin said to Danielle,

"I wanted to thank you for watching KayLy while we were gone." The ladies watched bemused as Ray upended the bottle over his head and sighed enthusiastically. Danielle smiled,

"Oh it was nothing. I enjoyed it. Since I gave up my son for adoption years ago, I always wanted to have a chance to babysit." In surprise, both Ray and Caitlin chorused,

"You have a son?" nodded in reply,

"Yes I was a wild and rebellious teen. My record is probably the reason why I kept getting turned down for the shuttle program. One thing I will say is that Kayra Lynn is an absolute doll." Caitlin nodded,

"She definitely has her moments. As her mother who loves her dearly, I can say that those so-called 'moments' are on _both _sides of the coin. Too much energy in one small package can sometimes make for quite a bit of fun or an equal amount of trouble. I'm just so pleased that the Doc says that she can come home the day after tomorrow." Both Ray and Danielle agreed enthusiastically that it was indeed good news.

The three sipped at their bottled water as they did a 'cool-down' walking lap of the main hangar. Ending up at the main hangar doors. Once they had completed that, Ray announced he was going to hit the showers.

Moments after Ray departed, Nick arrived in his classic Nova. Danielle always giggled at his bumpersticker which read _Is War The Answer? Ask Moses! _and always managed to be a conversation starter. Nick got out and then opened the door for his guest.

Her name was Janet and she was a local girl who had made it big in the fashion industry as a model. She was using her scholarship to pay her way through nursing school and she and Nick were celebrating.

While Nick pulled the cooler out of the trunk and transferred it over to the Hughes 500, Janet strode over to the ladies who were just concluding their stretching. She was easily half a foot taller than Caitlin even without heels but about the same height as Danielle. The two ladies were opposite sides of the same coin.

Janet was an exotic woman with bouncy, wavy hair and chocolate eyes which were always bright and twinkling. Since she was always wearing glamorous and skimpy clothing for the cameras, she usually dressed more conservatively when off-duty. Right now she was wearing a denim shirt with fringes and dark purple pants with yellow flowers in an odd pattern. Danielle was wearing her usual sports top which looked like a tank top with no midriff and pink biker shorts which came to just above her knees. Caitlin, on the other hand, was wearing green jogging bottoms with yellow lettering down the sides of legs reading SHERRIFF and a grey sweatshirt which had the arms cut off and bore the logo for the Department of Public Safety over the heart.

They all exchanged hugs and made small talk as Nick busied himself with preflighting the helicopter. Minutes later, he walked over and was about to say something when Janet leaned over and whispered something to Danielle. They both looked at Nick and giggled. He looked over at Caitlin who simply shrugged. He shook his head and continued his approach. He put an arm around Janet, who kissed the nape of his neck. Nick looked over at Danielle and commented,

"I guess I got back before KC and Renee. Their loss is my gain." Danielle giggled and kissed him on the cheek.

The two had dated briefly after they had double-dated with St John and Caitlin during the latter couple's engagement. They hadn't been very discreet about it and Stringfellow had decided to lay down the law about relationships between coworkers. Danielle had not been enthusiastic about the decision but her boyfriend and her cousin had sided with Stringfellow. She had agreed but it had still taken several months for her to warm up to Nick's new girlfriend.

Even though Nick was going to use the Hawke Aviation signature helicopter to take Janet on a picnic, it had been Danielle who had ensured that Nick had known to arrive early enough so that KC or Renee did not have a chance to sign it out instead.

Caitlin shared that Kayra Lynn would be released soon from the medical facility at Church Consulting. She thanked everyone for their prayers. Janet then announced it was _hugs and kisses time _and proceeded to embrace everyone and give them all a kiss on the cheek. She finished by giving a rather passionate kiss on the lips to Nick which earned a round of teasing from the other two women. Minutes later, the 500 ascended into the sky.

Caitlin and Danielle went to relax in the air-conditioned office. Danielle plopped herself into the overstuffed captain's chair and turned the vibrate mode on _LOW _as she sighed about how good it felt. Caitlin reached around the top of the chair and gently massaged her friend's shoulders. Caitlin casually inquired,

"Busy week I take it?" Danielle replied with her eyes closed,

"Very. I finished my qualifications for the 9mm and .357. Courtesy of Jo-jo and her tutoring, I'm caught up with the requirements for the ASL 3 course. On top of that, I've been working the commercial client all week. The father is all business but pleasant while the son thinks he's God's gift to humanity in general and women in particular. They have been keeping me on my toes to say the least. All I can say is that I'm glad I'm driving the jet and not not one of the rotarys." Caitlin laughed. She then strode over to the chair at the next desk. She took a small package out of a bottom drawer and began to open it as she spoke,

"I know you qualified on the .380 a long time ago but you don't carry a weapon while on-duty. As a _thank you _for caring for Kayra Lynn while I was on our business trip, I wanted to give you my old Bersa pistol. During our trip, Johnny upgraded me to a .40 like his so I don't need this one anymore." Caitlin handed over the weapon and Danielle graciously accepted it. She smoothly checked and cleared the weapon. Caitlin handed over the box which contained two loaded magazines. Danielle snapped the action closed and dropped the gun on top of the cloth it had been wrapped in. Danielle smiled sweetly,

"Thank you so much! I always feel so awkward borrowing a weapon to use at the range. In all honesty, you didn't have to do this. I was more than happy to babysit. I did feel a bit guilty that I didn't insist she come home with me on the day she got hurt. If she would have been killed, I would've blamed myself." Caitlin wrinkled her nose and shrugged,

"Well she wasn't so don't fret yourself. Its not that I'm trying to be glib about it but she's a very resilient little bundle of energy. You never saw it when she was playing softball in the street and slid into third base." Caitlin grimaced and rolled her eyes only the way a mother would at the memory while Danielle visibly cringed at the image in her mind's eye. "With me, if there's blood I get get very twitchy. But she has gotten to the point where she thinks that blood is _'cool' _which is due to Johnny's influence. If I see a commercial for a horror movie, I'll have nightmares for a week. With KayLy, she'll TiVO the gore and watch it all in slow-motion. She and my dear husband will giggle about it for days while ensuring they discuss it in my presence just enough to kill my appetite. This is especially true when it comes to meals featuring marinara sauce. The worst part is that my husband is a classic practical jokester. I'm never safe around either of them after movie night. She is definitely Daddy's little girl and they make quite a pair when it comes to making trouble for Momma." Danielle giggled behind a hand and nodded,

"Oh yes there was one night when she tried to convince me to let her stay up until 1am to watch something about a bloodbath at some fraternity but I told her it wasn't appropriate for a young lady to watch an R-rated movie. She pouted for several hours. She tried to convince me that she had actually stayed awake late enough to show me that she could have watched the movie and still gone to school, but I knew better since I had checked in on her." Caitlin laughed heartily,

"That sounds like her! She certainly is Daddy's little girl. She has Johnny's conniving nature combined with my easygoing nature. When she gets something in in her mind, she is a force to be reckoned with. And she knows that few adults can resist a cute 5-year-old." Danielle nodded and asked,

"How are the preparations going for her birthday party?"

"She wants to handle preparations all by herself. She simply cannot understand why she can't call the party supply warehouse herself. After all, she knows exactly what she wants and Momma can pay for it all. Unfortunately, she doesn't understand that the cost involved is 8 week's worth of her allowance." Danielle giggled again and sighed,

"I think I need a nap. Once Ray gets done in the shower, I think I'll get one as well and then head home. I have some paperwork to finish but I can leave my notes on the receptionist's desk and ask KK to take care of them for me. It usually takes about 5 minutes of sweet-talking and another half hour for him to stop blushing and then he finishes my paperwork in less than half of the time it takes me."

"Is Kristien due in today?"

"Yes he should be getting here any minute. He has his new girlfriend of the month so I'm guessing he's working on breaking liplock before he comes in." The two friends shared a laugh. As if on cue, the young man appeared at the door to the office. Caitlin grinned as he reported to Danielle quite enthusiastically. He wore a suitjacket and tie and he unabashedly stated that he dressed up in an attempt to impress Danielle.

This job had started out as a way for the young man to stay out of trouble on the weekends. His name was Kristien Krieger and his father was a business associate of Dominic's. Now that he was in college, the job was somewhat of a internship. The pay wasn't bad but he liked being around the planes. The time that Danielle had flown him around in one of the planes for about an hour had been the time of his life. St John still teased him about the 'date' even though it had taken place over a year ago. Danielle mentioned that she was going to leave early and asked if he would compose and file her flight report. He enthusiastically agreed.

Caitlin left once Ray reappeared. He busied himself with a detail rag on Nick's Biplane as Danielle made her way upstairs.

Everything was quiet for about 20 minutes.

Kristien had almost completed reading Danielle's report when a man strode into the reception area. The teen was about to initiate pleasantries when the man pulled a shotgun out of his duffel and demanded,

"Where is Hawke?" Kristien stood with arms raised and replied,

"Neither of the Hawke brothers are in today. We don't have any money on the premises, sir. If you need a flight…" But the man wasn't interested. He repeated the information about the brothers not being present.

On the other end of the hangar. Ray saw another shotgun toting man making his way over to the office. The black former Army Ranger kept low and grabbed the largest wrench he could find as he approached.

There were actually two intruders headed toward the office but Ray did not see the other man due to the separate paths they were taking. The black man picked up his pace and hefted the wrench like a baseball bat. He took two 'running' steps before his world went upside-down. The man behind him fired off his shotgun targeting the lame man's prosthetic.

Danielle heard the shot right as she was getting out a more suitable outfit for her appointment later that day. She grabbed her new pistol and loaded it. She then darted down the steps as she saw a figure pass the window for the office's door. When she arrived at the window, all she could see was a man dressed in a grey business suit holding a shotgun over what appeared to be Ray's unconscious form. She burst through the door with her gun leading the way and demanded,

"Drop it…" She didn't get a chance to finish her challenge as something exploded inside her head. She hit the floor hard and involuntarily rolled over onto her side. Her mind was a dizzying morass of darkness threatening to swallow her whole. The last thing she heard was,

"No don't; our directives plainly state that we are only to kill white males." On the other side of the hangar, the man who was holding the shotgun requested confirmation. He listened to his headset for a second and then dispassionately triggered off a shot into KK's chest.


	27. Chapter 27

Some sections of my notes resulted in chapters which I felt were too short, didn't add enough to the overall story, or otherwise lacking. Since they all fit into one area, I opted to make them into a 'chapter of shorts stories' with a working title of 'SHARK Bites'.

* * *

This chapter was originally titled "The Funeral". This chapter was not written by me. It is a bit out of my range of experience. I asked the minister in my family to write it after I read previous chapters to her. I then wrote the preamble interaction between Santini and Newman.

* * *

Jo Santini was just finishing up for the day when she felt a presence behind her. She waited for the terminal she was using to shut down before she spun her wheelchair around. To her surprise, Newman was standing there. In her years of working this position, she couldn't remember one time that he'd come to visit. She smiled easily,

"Hello, Mr Newman. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Newman smiled impishly as though he were up to something as he said,

"Please Miss Santini, it is I who have the pleasure I assure you." _Oh–really!?_ Jo bit the inside of her lip _Gotta work on that sarcasm…especially around the boss!!_ instead she tilted her head to one side quizzically. Newman nodded and said,

"Right then to business. As you know my son Gravis was killed during the training assignment that you took part in. I have always been impressed by the heroic measures you took part in during the September 11 crisis and the loss you endured as a result. I know I have asked you to lead the Bible studies here on a number of occasions and Gravis was quite the regular attendee. You may honestly know him better than his own parents." Santini replied in humble protest,

"Really sir I can't believe that…" Newman held up a hand to stop her. He smiled that impish grin again as he continued,

"I would like to ask you to officiate his wake here. This was actually my wife's idea but I think it is a delightful choice." A bemused look flickered across his hardened features as Jo's eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped. She stammered,

"Of course; I'd love to! But there is… I have to be… The law… The problem is that I'm not ordain…" Her voice trailed off as he pulled an envelope out of the inside pocket of his suit. The impish grin widened as started to speak again and now she knew he was up to something,

"Do you remember the conference you attended in Fort Worth, Texas some time ago? Well I have here a letter of ordination for you from the ministry who sponsored the event." Jo opened the envelope and grinned widely at the contents. She looked up at Newman and blurted,

"Wow! I've maintained contact with them and even donated to a couple of their projects. When I got the time to go to the conference, I met them and his wife prayed for my health. Their ministry's motto is to believe for the victory of all who attend but I didn't think they remembered me." Newman shrugged,

"They actually didn't until I described you and then he recalled part of a 'prophecy' he'd delivered to you when It had been revealed you'd been injured on 9-11. It also helped when I reminded them of the help we had been to them in the past when their church had faced some rather difficult situations." Jo knew better than to ask.

* * *

"Dearly Beloved we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Captain Gravis Newman. Who was Gravis Newman? To his parents, he was their beloved eldest son. To his siblings, a typical brother sometimes protective, other times teasing, and other times authoritative. To his wife he was a loving husband. To his children, an adoring, yet firm father. To his comrades in arms, he was a respected leader, a beloved brother, and a compassionate friend."

"When one exits this life, we try to find words to sum up their life, but words are inadequate to fulfill such a task. We try to find words to comfort those who remain, but words seem so empty. We desperately try to find ways to fill the void, the dear departed leaves, only to find that person living on in our memories."

"Memories, may seem a painful reminder of a loved one's absence, but can also be seen as healing keys. For a person's legacy does not end when they leave this Earth. Death is not as definitive a marker of our life and legacy as the finite initiation of our birth. When we are born, our legacy begins. It continues throughout our lives, growing exponentially as our lives intertwine with and have an impact on that of others. Consider, a wisdom shared with a brother who passes it on to another. Each life we touch, touches others passing parts of us along; in each smile, kind word, action, or fondly remembered song."

"I would encourage all those present to share the memories you have of Captain Gravis Newman with others who knew and loved him. I would also ask you to find a way to share your memories of him with his young children both now and as they grow up. His service to God and Country was a matter of honor for him, but his sacrifice is not his alone, but his family's also. The loss of time together, can never be compensated. The events in the lives of his children, that he would have wanted to participate in will be opportunities to offer support and to bring his memory alive anew for them to really know the father who has been taken from them. Some of you may wish to write them notes. Others, may make videos possibly including any footage you may have of him–unclassified footage, of course."

"The Bible says, _'Precious in the sight of the Lord is the passing of his saints.'_ Well, I am sure being such a good soldier, Captain Newman is probably making sure that when the _'Saints Go Marching In'_ now, they keep in proper formation and don't get sloppy. Perhaps, some here will find comfort in the sound of thunder, as they picture him marching with all the saints of Heaven. Others, may feel close to him when they see the clouds as if he is reminding us to straighten up and fly right. Those here who fly may feel closer to him when you're in the air, and may even think of him as an extra pair of wings to guide you safely home."

"Being a pilot, Captain Newman, loved to be in the sky and had stated more than once, "I've never felt closer to God than when I am flying and see the beauty of the sky up close and personal." He had once told me that for as long as he could remember, his favorite hymn had been "I'll Fly Away". When he was a kid he would look up at the sky and think about that song and wonder what it would feel like to fly away and visit God. Now that he is with God forever, he has the answer to the curiosity of his childhood."

"As Lara, his widow, raises Gravis Jr., Angel, and Huey, she will need the prayers, support and encouragement of everyone here. It is easy to come together immediately after a tragedy like this, but many times people get busy with their own lives and as time goes on the level of support wanes. I encourage you to remember this family, not just now but continuing into the future."

"As Gravis, Jr. is a 15 year-old boy, I encourage the men here to take an active role mentoring him. Share your memories of his father with him. As he grows into the man he is to become, help Lara to guide him."

"As his young daughter, Angel, matures share memories of her father with her. Try to be there for the major events of her life, endeavoring to shape her into a young lady who would make her father proud."

"Because Huey is only 1 1/2, he will have very limited memory of his father. It is very important, that you take time to help Lara as she raises him, and teach him all those things his father would have taught him. It will be important for him to learn the values and character that made his father so great, and to connect with the memories you all have of his father."

"Let us pray. Dear, God, please comfort these friends and family members as they experience and mourn the loss of Captain Gravis Newman. Let us not just mourn his departure, but celebrate his life."

"Help Lara, as she raises their children. Help Gravis, Jr., Angel, and Huey to feel your love and the love of their father as they grow up. Help them not to become bitter, but to better become the people you have destined them to become."

"Help us to carry on Captain Newman's legacy, and not to forget the importance of living each moment to the fullest. Help us each live in such a way that we are ready to go live with you. By your command, and in your name we pray. Amen."

"Let us close by singing Captain Newman's favorite hymn, "I'll Fly Away."

* * *

This chapter was originally titled "Enemy's War" and told first-person from the pilot's perspective.

* * *

"I'm here to do business. I do not indulge in frivolities on my employer's time." She replied evenly to his implied threat. I was impressed, she was the only one in the room who was unarmed yet she was not intimidated in the least. The General scowled,

"Such disrespect is unseemly in one who wants something from me. For a woman, you do not even honor our law by wearing a cover for your head." To punctuate his point, he raised the sidearm which had been sitting to one side of his desk. I shifted my weight so that my hand would have a clear path to my own sidearm but she tapped her briefcase three times with her left hand which was a 'safety' signal. She smiled thinly,

"Interesting how you decry Western ways ways yet your weapon of choice is an American Colt .45. Besides, your so-called 'law' says nothing about female headwear. It is the vanity and ego of your male population which is intimidated by your own sex drives which oppresses women to degrade themselves. Furthermore, this arrangement is not a matter of necessity, rather it is a matter of convenience. Should you see fit to press the matter to suit your own agenda, my employer can determine if it is our best interest to make the arrangements with you or your successor." The General grunted and then laughed,

"My so-called successor is my wife's favorite son. He is a fool with women and an idiot with money."

"Speaking of money; you have some paperwork from my esteemed employer as to the amounts involved in this transaction. I trust the amount meets your needs."

"It is indeed. I assume that your insistence on providing security means that that you will transporting a rather large item?" To her credit, she didn't take the bait. Instead she replied,

"What it means is that I will be responsible for this feud you have found yourself in with your neighbor which seems to have no resolution in sight."

"Oh quite the contrary, they have resorted to piracy which makes me question the logic of you coming to see me. I am led to wonder if your employer is a fool or if this is some sort of charade concocted by my enemies?" The General's final words were intended for the benefit of his subordinates. He made dismissive gesture and picked up the paperwork. After a moment, he shrugged,

"Yes well it all certainly appears to be in order." He then handed me a folder which had set of coordinates on it. The GPS location of the ship in question, was my guess. Minutes later, we were ushered out the way we came in. Hours later, we were underway.

"Your helicopters are very fancy. Do you think they will be enough against a man who has his own military force?" The ship's captain asked as we finished lunch.

He was an easy going man who had adopted many Western ways for his command. When greeted, he had insisted we call him 'Captain F' despite the fact that his last name was distinctly Arabic and about 9 letters. It was obvious that he was an educated man due to his mannerisms and the fact that he spoke English quite well despite his heavy accent.

The Captain had been more than polite and when asked if this was typical fare for all his trips, he'd replied to the negative, indicating that an extra degree of hospitality was called for when guests were being entertained for the first time–it was merely the Muslim way of being courteous.

My employer had been suspicious at first since her exotic looks always garnered her additional unwelcome attention from males. It took her a few hours but she eventually seemed to warm up to our host.

The Captain had asked his question to nobody in particular but she had smiled graciously and extended her hand, palm up, in my direction to defer the answer to me.

I sighed inwardly. I was not here to act as this man's personal air force. Any interaction with hostile forces here at sea would take vital time and resources away from our true mission. Giving my voice a low, almost conspiratorial tone I replied,

"I hope it doesn't come to it, but if we get attacked we'll certainly find out." Captain F nodded and glanced from me to my Weapons Technician and back. He then let out a throaty chuckle as if suddenly privy to some inside, private joke.

We made small talk for another few minutes until an alarm went off and we all went to the ship's bridge. Two men were excitedly jabbering back-and-forth as they gestured out to sea at something off the port bow. The one nearest the Captain handed him his binoculars and the Captain spoke,

"It seems that our adversary is choosing his moment to be sooner rather than later. We have two small craft approaching us while their freighter is just about on the horizon." My employer gave me a cold stare that spoke volumes but I got the message as if she had said: _bring back my boss' helicopter in one piece or don't bother coming back!_ We figured that we'd only need the one SKYSHARK.

When the ship had been loaded, the Captain had wisely stacked crates around the 3 helicopters so a casual observer would not spot them.

The 2 small motorcraft were halfway to our freighter when we took off. I didn't bother with the impellers. One quick burst with the minigun and the first boat disintegrated along with its occupants. It happened so fast that the second boat didn't have time to react before we were literally on top of them. One shot from the grenade launcher removed the boat and its occupants from the face of the sea.

I hugged the surface of the ocean as SKYSHARK closed the distance with the enemy's freighter. Although the target was little more than a sliver on the horizon to the naked eye, I switched to the select-fire option. Even with the sighting system at maximum, the occupants of the opposing freighter's bridge were barely discernible. That didn't stop me from using 5 shots to take out all of them. I commented on how good the weapons systems were and the voice behind me spoke up,

"I fine-tuned it a bit for you. I realigned the array so that it will work with standardized satellite comlinks. Even the civilian systems are good enough for our use. I can access local commercial systems if I need it as well. The enciphering level is only about 4000 bit key strength so even the NSA standard in my control panel can break it within a minute." By this time we had reached the freighter and for good measure I put a couple missiles into it.

The first one went into the aft superstructure, the next into the foreward hull, and finally a third into the midsection below the waterline. As I fired the third, the reason for the location of the attack became clear as two fighters appeared on my helmet display. From the Engineer's station came the ID as to type of fighters and their armament. I hovered near the sinking freighter as the two fighters sped past. I kicked in the impellers as I triggered the 20mm cannon. The first fighter exploded and the second came hard about to find the source of the tracers. I was still hugging the surface of the water but my supersonic wake had stirred the waters below me. Too late, the fighter realized that he'd passed us. Before he had time to correct, the missile I'd fired impacted with him and sent him crashing into the ocean.

* * *

This chapter was originally titled "C. C. Changes" as "Church Consulting Changes" was too long for my PalmPilot. I wanted to focus on the mutual uniqueness of KC and Nick. I also wanted to explain the difference in Dominic Santini's health in the next chapter.

* * *

Nick and KC were sparring up a storm. It was one of the few things that helped Santini's knee. The Rec hall at Church Consulting was one of the few places that the two genetically-modified soldiers could practice without reservations.

The men were currently using every trick at their disposal and it looked more like a well rehearsed Cirque Du Soleil performance rather than two men battling.

One of the security guards had commented to another one _it looks like outtakes from the MATRIX special effects sequences...but who would believe it?_ and the guards agreed it was best that they couldn't tell anyone.

KC would TimeStall and Nick would respond with two punches and a kick all in one move. KC would shoot off a kick and used his momentum to carry himself over his opponent. He twisted and flipped as he went over so that he could thrust kick Nick in the back. Except that Santini was no longer there. He had dived for the floor and reversed a kick straight backward. The momentum combined with the enhanced strength should have crushed his opponent's chest. The instant KC had landed, he'd grabbed the foot, spun on his hip and twisted as he rolled back. Santini planted a hand on the floor and rolled with his opponent's maneuver and then smashed 'down' with a powerful punch while bringing his free foot around and bending the trapped foot's knee. Nick's response should have incapacitated KC but the younger man had managed to arch his back which led to a clean, if narrow, miss.

This sparring lasted another 10 minutes. The guards were absolutely dumbstruck at the combination of agility and power. After finally calling it a draw, Nick said that he needed a break and the two of them did a walking lap of the Rec area.

"How does the knee feel?" KC asked as Nick massaged the joint. Nick shrugged his reply,

"Sore but that's par for the course. Getting some adrenaline into the system makes me feel better and helps to pretty much ignore the damage."

"Speaking of damage, I recall that when Dr Zelenka was hit by two different ZATs the way he was pulled out of the coma was by using a microtransfusion from me. Want to give it a shot on your uncle?" KC mused aloud. Nick paused long enough to drain another bottled water before replying,

"I don't see why not. As long as the blood types match. Our nano-oids are designed to enhance our natural immune system so it would likely give him the same result as if we hit him with a good dose of Tretonin." The two got cleaned up and then headed over to the hospital area.

They drew a syringe worth of blood from KC and injected it into Dom. The effect was nearly as immediate as it was pronounced. Dom's vital signs darted up to where they were almost into the normal range and his eyes seemed to blink. Unfortunately when the two men greeted him, he seemed to have no response whatsoever. Just then a doctor stepped in and went over to the monitors. After asking them what had happened, Nick explained,

"We used some of the nano-oids from him to see if they could correct the coma he's in." The doctor sighed,

"Unfortunately the coma he is in is a medically instituted one. Your efforts are appreciated if misguided. My experience with medically programmed nano-oids is limited so I have little idea what the outcome will be.

* * *

This chapter was entitled "Santini Confronted". The working title actually had the name of the woman who confronts him but the would give up the major plot twist which comes later.

* * *

The room was dark and still, there was little sound except for the subdued pit-pat of the light rain spitting on the outside of the private room's windows. Santini was peripherally aware that everyone had left the room to let him get some rest while the medications took effect. He was drifting off into what some called 'parasleep' when he became aware of another presence in the room.

He could not make the figure out as it slowly approached the bed and took a long look at his monitors. There was a sense of familiarity as the figure stared at him and then tilted its head to one side as if figuring what to do.

The figure sat in the seat which had recently been vacated by DeNoon and leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

It was immediately obvious the speaker was female.

There was no malice in the firm, even voice. It was as if she was having a conversation with an old friend. That is, except for the fact that she drew a small pistol from her purse and held it to his neck just below where his jaw met the base of his skull, about two inches below his ear. For emphasis, she cocked the weapon but then made a point of releasing the weapon to fold her hands together before she spoke. She had made her point, she wanted his attention and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

There was something hauntingly familiar about her but the medications created a fog that his thoughts just could not pierce. He could not be sure but he thought he detected a hint of smugness as she began, even though it almost sounded like a prepared speech due to the lack of hesitation in her words. Either way, she was well-practiced and confident about her words and their intent as they reached his ears,

"Well, my old friend, we meet again. Too bad it isn't under better circumstances. I am genuinely sorry about what happened earlier. It was intended as a distraction but one of my contractors got a bit a bit too enthusiastic about his interpretation of the desired results. Your injuries are merely a matter of convenience. Rest assured, you are not my primary target. I have invested too much time and energy for this type of frivolous mistake. I could kill you now and walk away with all things being made equal. But my agenda goes much further than that. I want you to know that I'll be praying for your quick and complete recovery since this is only the beginning and I want you around to experience the genius of my full plan. What happened to you is but the tip of the iceberg. I'm truly pleased that those you had hired to help you are efficient and well-trained. This business of vengeance nearly crossed the line and became personal with this venture. I swear to you I will not be denied, justice will be found by my hand. A part of me is almost curious to know what you are thinking. I still remember some of the lessons you taught me and I hold them dear. Since I already have blood on my hands, adding to it means little to me. It is the price of doing business my old friend. It taught me a good deal of patience when I found that you too have lost a loved one due to circumstances beyond your control. The problem was that it proved to insufficient to my goals. Even though I know your personal role was peripheral, those who are responsible must be made to pay for what they have done. Knowing that you alone cannot atone is the only reason I do not pull the trigger right now. In the grand scheme of things, it would bring me small satisfaction. Besides, the questions which would be asked would present an inconvenience. That kind of distraction I cannot afford. This meeting here may also be considered a distraction but it is an indulgence that I felt I owed myself. If for no other reason than to remind myself that my quest has another face on it besides my own. I have already acquired my prize and with its delivery, I will soon realize my dream. When my day comes, the tables will indeed be turned. In fact, I have just taken my first step. As a man who loves to fish you will appreciate my genius. I have just acquired live bait. While I'm here, my team is down the hall taking custody of your precious surrogate Granddaughter. Don't worry I won't kill her. Not until I have Stringfellow Hawke squarely in my sights. The irony is that I'm telling you everything and there isn't thing one you can do about it." To punctuate her threat, she uncocked her pistol and dropped it casually into her purse.

As she stood, she kissed him and whispered a _farewell _in his ear. She abruptly turned and left.

Dom wanted to scream.

* * *

This chapter was titled "The Abduction". I nearly allowed it to be handled in a few lines of dialogue.

* * *

"And how are we doing today?" Nurse Piano asked as she entered the room. The veteran nurse sensed something was wrong right as she entered the room. Not only was was her charge where she was supposed to be but several unfamiliar people were there as well.

She didn't recognize any of them.

An alarm went off inside of her head and rather than confronting them verbally, she reached for her portable alarm.

She didn't get far.

There was a harsh _CLICK _at her shoulder and she felt either a pinprick or a mild electric shock before everything seemed as though it was underwater. Her muscles wouldn't respond and she felt incredibly weak. Her mind was spinning as a pair of strong hands lowered her into a chair.

Piano was aware that from 3 to 5 people disconnected KayLy from her monitors and then removed the girl from her bed. This woke Kayra Lynn up and she seemed none too pleased. She tiredly protested that she didn't know anyone who was near her. This prompted one of the females to speak,

"You'll be fine as long as you behave. Your family has been causing trouble for too long and you are going to act as an insurance policy." It was obvious that the speaker was in charge and even the 4 year old Miss Hawke recognized what was going on. She yawned and replied defiantly to the woman,

"You realize my Daddy is going to kill you for this!?" The woman looked at the girl dispassionately, shook her head, and laughed humorlessly.

_Way to go Kayra Lynn Hawke!_ Piano thought.

The Nurse was a dedicated caregiver and had devoted her life to healing people rather than harming them but this experience was too much for her and she desperately wanted to do something.

Some thing inside her said that information was the best weapon and giving St John and Caitlin as many details would be the best thing she could do. She found that if she concentrated, she could open her eyes slightly. In order not to arouse suspicion she rolled her eyes as if she was fighting the effects of what they'd hit her with. It worked, they all but ignored her.


	28. Chapter 28

Note: This was titled "Reg's Fight". I wanted to write a chapter featuring a 'lower decks'/supporting character.

* * *

Note: To readers who may be sensitive to such things, you may wish to skip this chapter. I have already established that Reg was at one point a street tough. As such, I have a point in this chapter where he does use "street language". After a discussion with the minister in my family I determined that a word which some can consider profane is used in context. It adds an emotional impact and perspective on the inner struggle. Reg embodies the part of all of us who have made mistakes and are trying to redeem ourselves. Sometimes when given options, neither of which is palatable, we are not entirely comfortable with our decision and we express that in terms which may be inappropriate to an observer. That said, you may proceed at your own discretion…

* * *

It had been quite a day for Reg, and a long one at that. He usually liked to eat nice meals when he was on the clock but tonight had been different.

He hadn't been to Church Consulting since the attack at Hawke Aviation. Stringfellow had been using one helicopter or another in the days since to make the trip. This had left Reg with the job of cleaning the building and detailing all the aircraft. He'd been wearing the grey workpants and H-A windbreaker with a polo shirt in the meantime. It was as casual as he dared get with all the rich and famous people who came to visit the hangar.

When St John had asked for a ride home, Reg had jumped at the chance to get some wheel time in. St John had to make a quick stop to take care of some business on the way which meant that the driver had needed to change into his suit.

Not that he really minded wearing the suit. He had 5 of them which were nearly identical and had been custom designed for him. He knew that Mr Santini had mentioned _"you'd better like them son, they cost more than that van did when it was brand-new"_. Whether that was apiece or for all, Reg figured off he was better off not knowing.

The nice thing was that whenever he put on the suit, he was always handed $2,000 out of petty cash for any expenses.

After dropping St John off at the 'mansion' Reg had gone to pick himself up some dinner. He hadn't really been in the mood for fine dining so he stopped at his favorite pizza place. The owner was an old friend of his who had built the business up from the ground. Reg had wanted to meet the new waitress and it had paid off. Whether due to his generous tip or his charm, he had gotten the Puerto Rican girl's phone number. She had been respectful when he told her he wasn't allowed to discuss much about his work but she thought he was quite handsome even without the suitjacket and matching tie. He'd left the shirt and vest buttoned up so he could still appear professional and she had complimented him on his appearance.

He was almost back to the 'mansion' and he was still riding the emotional high. He was tired but upbeat. After the long, busy day he'd had he was likely to sleep very good tonight. As he turned the minivan onto the road the 'mansion' was on he was mostly on autopilot. He couldn't yet see the house but he was looking forward to a good night's sleep and the brothers were probably doing the same by now.

He doubted that the minivan could be heard inside the house but he allowed the vehicle to coast anyway. When he got to the top of the S-curve, about 1.5 miles from the 'mansion', he could finally see the old Hawke family home.

Stringfellow had inherited the family cabin while St John had inherited the farmhouse and the adjoining refurbished barn. Their father had installed rudimentary utilities along with rough insulation in half of the barn. While his brother had been listed as MIA, Stringfellow had rebuilt the two structures and connected them. Slightly less than 1/3 of the whole 'mansion' was livable.

When Reg wanted to park, he could use the automatic garage door opener to open the door but it had to be closed manually or it would blow the fuse. The room Reg slept in was essentially the second floor landing adjacent to one of the 3 working bathrooms. The stairwell was right next to the garage and the landing was only half finished. He and Ray had set up a temporary sheet of drywall in case Reg tried to head the wrong direction and nearly fell through the exposed studs again.

He really appreciated the generosity and trust that the Hawke family had extended to him. He had a private concern that things might change with the incapacitation of Dominic Santini. So far things were still proceeding with some sense of normalcy as far as business was concerned.

Even though his mind was wandering, he was still paying attention to his driving and something brought him up short with a start. It was 11pm and well past dusk but something was very, very wrong.

At the bottom of the S-curve, right before the road began to turn, a dark van was parked!

Thinking quickly, Reg switched off the minivan's lights as he continued to coast forward. From their position, they couldn't see him due to the trees. There was a clear view of the 'mansion' for them which Reg knew from experience. He watched with curiosity and concern as at least two men busied themselves at the van's opened side-panel door. One of the dark figures swung something long and heavy in a back-and-forth motion. The object must have either shifted or the figure's grip slipped as the figure made a sudden downward motion and then made a gesture that was all too familiar to the former hoodlum. With a shock, the young black man realized exactly what they were doing.

They were in the process of mounting a machine gun to aim at the 'mansion'!

A thousand thoughts swept through Reg's mind in the next instant. He licked his lips in frustration as two of the thoughts pressed to the front. The first thought was from a Bible study which Miss Jo-jo had led _'for every situation, there is a reason and God works in and through all things; it is His plan and His timing that God works with us as His Body'. _He had to admit, the timing couldn't be worse–or better, depending on one's point-of-view.

The second thought was from when he had helped Mr KC and Mr St John set up a particularly wicked practical joke on Mr Stringfellow which had gone off flawlessly. While regaining what little was left of his composure, Mr Stringfellow had glared at Reg _'just remember, you are on parole, carefully weigh the consequences of your actions before you do something that will involve or affect others'. _

Timing and consequences. Timing and consequences…

Reg was still about ¼ mile away when he remembered about the .38 which was usually stored in the glove compartment. He flicked the compartment open and remembered to his disappointment that it had been replaced with his CD collection. There was no way he could get past the van to warn the Hawke brothers and he had no weapon.

_Except_…

An odd tickle came to the back of his head as he suddenly realized that the one weapon he was most familiar with was held in his hands. His hands went into a cold sweat as he knew in his heart what he had to do. He squeezed the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles went white and he was almost surprised that they didn't begin to glow.

In his mind, he didn't like this turn of events one bit. On one hand there were men with weapons preparing to harm his only true friends—on the other hand, there were the _'consequences'_ as they had been so aptly named.

Consequences versus bad guys. Bad guys versus consequences. Consequences versus…

_TO HELL WITH THEM……!!_

Right as the minivan got to the section of the curve where it was a straight shot to the dark vehicle, Reg began to evenly and steadily accelerate. His foot was as firm and smooth as his path. The minivan sped up silently under his practiced touch. The adrenaline rush made his entire body tingle with anticipation. He didn't even notice when his vision began to tunnel. Seconds before the impact, he came to the horrible realization that this decision could kill him. His lips peeled back from his teeth and he suddenly felt a strange sensation; his mind was filled with fury yet his heart was at peace.

The minivan struck the van at nearly a 25° angle just in front of the rear tire, nearly dead center of the open sliding side-panel door. The black youth had the sensation of a chill slicing through his heart as he was afraid the smaller vehicle might just bounce off the bigger one and this would be a wasted effort. The minivan simply skipped off the more dense section of the other vehicle due to the extremely oblique angle of the attack. The first impact caused the minivan to come off the tires on the side of the other vehicle. There was a screeching crunch as Reg continued forward and the front third of the minivan was practically swallowed by the larger vehicle's open door. As the more solid connection with the forward cab section of the van came into play, the minivan was almost at a 45° angle to the road.

This was a saving grace for Reg as the van's gunner managed to fire off a short burst from the machine gun. The 2-foot long blast of flame which spat forth looked to Reg as though it was aimed right for his face. Most of the burst was swallowed up by the minivan's engine compartment. Reg not only felt the sharp impacts of the rounds shredding 'his' vehicle's front end, but the steering wheel was wrested from his grasp.

As the vehicles literally intermingled, metal fusing with metal, plastic shattering and being spat forth in a fountain of spare parts, he tried in vain to grasp the wheel again as though he could restore some sense of control in this manic moment of chaos. The two vehicles rolled side over side and this caused a sudden wave of nausea to overwhelm him.

This dizziness coupled with the knot in his stomach nearly made him lose his dinner. Somewhere in his mind, he rationalized that it was bad enough he'd just thrashed the vehicle his employer had entrusted him with, but leaving a vomit stain on this very expensive suit would be adding insult to injury. He raised a hand to cover his mouth as he swallowed hard but still smelled a pungent, stinging odor from the wrong end of his nose. His arm was yanked away as the minivan landed askew on its roof.

The inertia caused the smaller vehicle to continue to drag the larger one along. Due to the unique angle of attack along with the interference of a nearby tree, the van's trajectory twisted as it rolled. The vehicles came to a rest with the van upside-down and the front end completely twisted and smashed while the minivan was on its side with its front end in not much better shape. The front tire of the minivan was wedged into the space between the van's side and the sliding door. The van's sliding door hanging on by a thread was the only thing which prevented the minivan from rolling onto its roof.

The toolbox from the back had broken open and the flashlight was at Reg's feet. He picked it up after releasing his seatbelt and stepped through the shattered windshield. There was no movement or sound coming from the other vehicle as he walked around to the back of the vehicles. One of the van's back doors had been ripped open and the 'bottom' hinge had broken off in the process which left the door hanging 'up' at nearly 90° as a result.

Reg felt very dizzy and he was having a hard time making his feet work right. He looked down and saw that one of his arms was dangling lifeless from a very ugly compound fracture just below the shoulder. The black youth shook his head to clear it and it was only then that he realized his suit was covered with blood! From the way his head felt, he was sure he had gotten a concussion as well. Everything in his field of view was swimming and it had a sensation of being completely unreal. He continued to push himself forward since he could now see a leg on the ground behind the damaged door. Rounding the door, he could see that the man's head lay at an odd angle. He was holding what looked like a small UZI and his eyes were open but neither moved as Reg awkwardly shuffled toward the van.

The farther he progressed, the more he was convinced that the broken arm wasn't his since he couldn't get it to respond. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else as well as he trudged along. He wanted to run toward the house to warn the Hawke brothers, but the legs seemed more interested in the van. Reg shone the flashlight in the van but all he saw were more motionless bodies. Part of him must have won over the instincts to fight as he abruptly turned from the van to face the 'mansion'.

He must have turned too fast as the image of the house went blurry. He blinked hard but it didn't help in the least. He felt confused as his view of the house was now tilting oddly and the tunnel vision was back. It was a futile effort to overcome as Reg suddenly collapsed onto the roadside unconscious!


	29. Chapter 29

This chapter had originally been titled "Assault on Hawke mansion". I wanted to feature the Hawke brothers repelling an attack on their home front.

* * *

"_STRING!!"_ St John's harsh whisper pierced the stillness of the bedroom.

They were laying on cots on either end of the room right next to the two doors. Despite being asleep, there had been some hint of sound which had been anomalous enough to catch his attention. He had been still for a moment while his mind processed all of what his senses were telling him.

Nothing.

He'd called out to his brother in a clipped whisper through barely parted lips. It had been done in such a way that would have made a ventriloquist jealous as nobody outside the room could have heard him.

Stringfellow seemed to reach a restless point in his slumber as he tossed slightly to go from sleeping on his back to his side where he was now facing St John. Stringfellow took in the slow, even breath of sleep and, as he exhaled, he whispered breathily,

"Yeah; I heard it too!" As if on cue, both of them snapped from their reclining position to a ready position.

In one abrupt yet smooth motion, they rolled out of their cots, drew their sidearms, and came up to a high crouch as they aimed for the doors nearest them. Peeking around the door frames, they both noted the halls were clear and then made for the closet near St John's bed.

They quickly and quietly opened the hidden compartment at the end of the walk-in closet and retrieved weapons from within. They both grabbed tactical versions of their .40 pistols which were equipped with suppressors. St John grabbed an M4 while Stringfellow opted for a semiautomatic shotgun and an MP-5/10mm.

There were 2 simultaneous crashes as the brothers recognized breaching charges being used on the back door for the first floor and the skylight on the unfinished attic.

Using a series of combat gestures and mixing in Sign Language, they determined that St John would go upstairs and Stringfellow would go downstairs. Almost as an afterthought, St John tossed Stringfellow a communications earpiece. Stringfellow looked into the bottom of the compartment with a puzzled expression and asked,

"You didn't add any grenades after all? I thought we'd discussed this?" His brother grinned and shook his head. He then whispered,

"Well excuse me! I stopped in Serbia on the way home but I left them in the storage compartment of SKYSHARK." Stringfellow shrugged,

"I just figured that _there is no problem so great that it cannot be solved by the suitable application of explosive devices_." St John nodded and grinned since he'd been the one to first use the line before his brother picked it up.

There was plenty of ambient light from the decorative lights on the front lawn but the brothers chose to grab gLESses Light-Expanding Spectacles anyway.

St John darted for the door closest to the stairwell for the attic. When he rounded the corner to ascend the stairs, he got the shock of his life. He found himself facing 3 men descending the same stairs who were armed with mini-UZIs!

St John reflexively pulled the trigger on his rifle but it was still set for select-fire. Fortunately, due to the point-blank range, the single bullet drilled through all his opponents.

He slung his weapon and leapt over the bodies to run up the stairs halfway. From there he was able to jump up to grab an exposed support beam. St John hauled himself up and crawled along a connecting beam until he reached the central truss. In a crouch, he cat-footed along the sturdily mounted wood over the heads of a dozen attackers.

He was glad his brother had insisted on exceeding the building codes established for earthquakes and hurricanes. Even though St John could hear a light rain starting to come through the now-destroyed skylight, there was no squeaking from the beam as he walked along it.

_If even one of these guys thinks of looking up, I'm in serious trouble!_

He made his way to the opposite end of the truss which put him over the far stairwell. He was also at he opposite end of the unfinished area from the attackers. He had a clear field of fire from the superstructure into the mounted sheets of drywall which had been hung to establish several new upstairs rooms.

St John lowered himself to another support beam and shimmied to an adjoining crossbeam where he set up position. He wrapped his legs around a crossbeam and reclined behind one of the main vertical supports. He laid his rifle against the support and quietly switched the weapon over to fully automatic.

It went without saying that those who were not taken down immediately would return fire. All St John had to do would be to do a situp and the vertical support would make for a perfect defensive position. A couple quips and one-liners went through his head but he figured he had better let the element of surprise speak for itself.

This was, after all, real life and not some Hollywood script–or, worse yet, some internet fan story based on a TV show.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself by counting backward from 5 to 1. St John fired several sweeping bursts right as one of the men in front dragged one of the first 3 he'd shot back up the steps. St John figured he'd shot about half those remaining before one of them spotted his muzzle flash and shot back.

Fortunately for him they were all using 9mm PDWs and he knew from experience that those rounds would penetrate less than an inch into the wood. Still the impacts against the beam he was now hiding against were more than a bit unsettling.

He peeked around and saw a handful of men dart from one section of drywall to another. They were attempting to attack his blind spot which was just in front of the support his legs were wrapped around!

He leaned around and waited until they passed around the next section of drywall to make his move. Making a calculated guess, he all but emptied the clip into the end section of the drywall at about waist height.

The long burst tore a ragged hole in the relatively flimsy construction. The man on the end staggered out from behind the wall and fell, bloody holes in his gut and chest. As he landed, a spray of blood shot forth from his mouth and he was still. Another attacker could be partially seen through the hole in the drywall as the impact of the rounds slamming into his back sent him sinking to the floor.

St John swept the M4's fire along the wall as he continued his final rounds in the burst. There was a shout of pain and, farther down, several rounds were fired through the bottom of the wall at an odd angle from the other side. He thought he'd gotten them all until he slapped in a fresh mag and saw at least one gunman making a hasty retreat around the far end of the destroyed wall.

About a handful of the gunmen seemed to decide to beat a hasty retreat down the far stairwell and St John fired off a few short bursts as he pressed the microphone against his throat,

"I'm sending a few your direction. I'll be coming around the main stairwell." He heard his brother reply,

"Main stairwell; Aye!" St John made his way across one of the supports so that he could drop through the unfinished section of the ceiling above the attic's foyer area.

As he got into the open, the gunmen had the worst timing possible. Right as he lowered himself to crawl across the crossbeam, they decided to rush the attic unleashing a hail of gunfire. St John gave a mighty leap toward the opening.

…And missed!

He hit the drywall right where it was connected to the existing construction. He would have gone completely through if his brother had finished the wall and cut the studs to length. As it was, he landed almost between the studs and the drywall all but completely held.

For an instant, St John thought he'd get stuck but his inertia along with a generous amount of blind/dumb luck caused him to tumble awkwardly along. He flipped sideways and banged his knees against the crossbeam he'd originally been aiming for. This impact redirected his movement just enough so that he caused the next piece of drywall to break off as he skidded across, nearly missing the entrance altogether. The diverting of his path along with the wall breaking caused him to slam into the far wall of the finished section of the upper stairwell rather than going over it.

As he fell through the open section of ceiling to the stairs below in a less than acrobatic maneuver he mumbled wryly,

"8-Ball corner pocket!"

Stringfellow heard his brother's voice clearly but with an odd tonal quality which meant he was pressing the earpiece's mike against his throat so that he could speak softly rather than whisper. Stringfellow responded in kind,

"Roger that. Heading for kitchen." The only reply he got was a crash and a series of pained grunts ending with his brother's voice saying _Oops!_ sheepishly.

Stringfellow made his way across the next bedroom staying to the edges as he crept through. This room and the adjoining walk-in closet weren't anywhere near finished and several of the floorboards weren't completely fastened down.

The walk-in closet was the size of a small room in itself. It was actually slightly separated from the bedroom since it was originally part of the garage but Stringfellow was trying to be clever when he rebuilt it. The area above the garage was long and narrow so Stringfellow had walled off half of the main stairwell and then extended the wall to make the closet for the main bedroom. The other side of the wall at the end of the closet was the second floor landing which Reg used the finished section as a bedroom. It also had access to the main second floor bathroom which had originally been the exclusive domain of the master bedroom.

Part of the reconstruction was a section of the master stairwell at the wall of the house just above and behind the kitchen pantry which was only 2 feet wide and the only people who knew about the secret passage were those who had seen the obscured access from the entrance in the closet upstairs. The closet entrance to the passage was part of the decorative covering for the plumbing for the adjacent bathroom.

Stringfellow made his way to the closet and lifted up the metal coverplate over the empty space between the buildings. It gave him a perfect firing position at the two gunmen who were crossing the kitchen below. He aimed his subgun and pulled the trigger for a quick strafing burst. One shot rang out and struck an attacker in the arm. He suddenly remembered that this MP5/10mm tended to jam on fully automatic and he had been intending to take it to his gunsmith.

He dropped the plate right as the two men began firing at him. He tried twice to clear the jam but was unsuccessful. With a flash of inspiration, he drew the tactical .40 and darted through the passageway. In 2 quick bounds, he made it to the point where the original stairwell widened and Stringfellow had put a turnaround into the passageway. He paused long enough to put a suppressed round through the friction roller-lock for the concealed door in the pantry. He kept low as he smashed through the door shoulder first.

His momentum along with a bunch of formerly stacked cans carried him across the entrance to the pantry as he fired multiple rounds on the fly at the gunmen who were still firing at the area of the metal plate. The men fell in place and Stringfellow left them where they were.

He holstered his pistol and grabbed their 9mm PDWs. While reloading the captured weapons, he looked around for a place to get cover from the men coming through the back door. He'd set the weapons down on the counter as he loaded fresh magazines.

He was right next to the pantry facing partway into the kitchen when something struck him as being wrong. With his adrenaline rush, he was trying to keep his vital signs from getting too high and stabilizing his breathing was causing his heartbeat to sound off in his ears. There it was again; the sound of a heavy footstep in the kitchen with him!

A sudden flash of inspiration occurred to him and he spun around, shotgun in hand. As he began to take aim, two separate floorboards above him squeaked and Stringfellow fired off 3 rounds of .002 aught buckshot into the ceiling at the precise location of where he knew the loose floorboards in question to be.

There was a grunt and a choked-off scream followed by the distinct sounds of two bodies falling. He then heard the sound of a commotion above him and the sounds of footfalls which were very familiar to him. As Stringfellow busied himself preparing his weapons, he grinned as he heard his brother run down the upstairs hallway and enter the first bedroom. The steps continued toward where Stringfellow knew the upstairs wall between the bedrooms to be.

His brother's footsteps didn't stop…in fact they continued along their path in a straight line.

_Wait a minute, there's no door there! It's a blank wall―or at least it was!!_

For his part, St John had crossed through the crawlspace between the floors and came out right at the storage closet doors just before the attic's entry. The surprise tactic worked as he was able to take out another handful of gunmen who were descending the stairs carefully. The drawback was that he'd actually come out too early and the bulk of the gunmen scrambled back up the stairs.

Since they had the high ground, St John decided he may as well join Stringfellow at a point of last defense. He dove down the stairs and ran for the first bedroom. He heard some scrambled confusion behind him but no shots followed him down. Upon entering the room he did hear some gunfire but it was still coming from the stairwell.

He crossed the room in a heartbeat and unleashed a long burst from his M4. He shot the wall up from the baseboard to nearly head height and then back down again. It was a stunt he'd seen performed in the movie _Escape From New York_ and it seemed like something to try out of desperation. He continued his run and led with his shoulder as he went through the section of the wall he'd just outlined. Pain shocked his shoulder as he went through and he realized he'd likely just added a bunch of splinters to the various scars on his body.

_OUCH! Snake Plissken/Kurt Russell made it look so much easier, not to mention less painful!_

He made his way to the open walk-in closet and noted that the metal coverplate was removed and bullet-ridden. Peering through, the kitchen appeared empty.

St John checked the door to the passageway but it was stuck. He could push it open but he would be too big to fit through. If he pulled it open, he would have had to lift it slightly as one of the hinges looked loose as though his brother had gone through too fast. He set up position at the opening to the closet waiting for the attic gunmen to follow. He heard the sounds of several men entering the kitchen but couldn't see them from his perspective.

Down in the kitchen several men entered using a tactical-style formation. The room appeared empty save for two bodies laying in front of the pantry, one face up and the other face down. There were several whispers among the small group of attackers.

The man who was in the lead held up a hand and they all came to a halt but the whispers continued as the leader looked slowly around the oversized kitchen. He then aimed his weapon toward the pantry and took a tentative step forward even though the gunman on the other wall could see into the shallow closet and whispered a negative announcement of human presence.

The gunman's announcement was punctuated by a crash from the commercial-sized oven in the corner near the door they had just entered through. The oven slammed open and Stringfellow leaned out.

He was squatting in such a way that his legs pushed the appliance's door open and then stayed straight to balance himself as he leaned his shoulders out to spread his arms wide as though to embrace the closest gunmen. The two closest were mere feet away but in nearly opposite directions. Stringfellow called out,

"Hey Stupid! Try behind you!" And he committed to an action he promised he'd never do: firing two guns at once; typically it was ineffective and only done to increase the drama of an already ridiculous scene.

Unfortunately, in Stringfellow's opinion, the word _ridiculous_ didn't even begin to describe this situation. In his peripheral vision, he noted that one of the MP-5 PDW's had a Tac-Light and the other had a laser sight as he pulled the triggers.

Half of the gunmen were illuminated as they were shot down and the other half had a red dot trace a line across them. With fierce determination and almost positive that, despite the fact he was behind them and had the element of surprise on his side, Stringfellow was sure he would end up the recipient of a stray/lucky shot. As he fired he crossed and uncrossed his arms in a sweeping motion until both weapons were empty.

He dropped them and grabbed the .40 SIG off his lap. Fortunately all his attackers had fallen.

From upstairs, St John saw the muzzle flashes and heard multiple bodies fall. Looking up, he saw a figure pass the hole he'd just torn in the wall and fired. The figure spun and fell through the hole, effectively blocking it. He also heard several men running past the door to the room heading for the main staircase. He was about to follow them when he realized that it would put his brother and himself at opposite ends of a wicked crossfire and one stray bullet could have one brother kill the other.

He had another flash of inspiration from an action movie. He'd only seen the first half of the movie until he'd been reminded that Caitlin hated vampire movies. She'd chided him about drooling over the brunette actress wearing the tight leather bodysuit as she shot up everything in sight, including a building's floor. The latter was in order to make a clever escape.

He'd later seen an episode of _MYTHBUSTERS_ in which the _Team_ had _'Busted'_ the scene, proving it was impossible to shoot the floor in order to collapse it and then cause one's weight to fall through to the floor below. St John came to his feet and slapped in a fresh magazine as he said,

"Unfortunately, Mr Belecci was using pistol rounds while I have rifle rounds in this baby. Too bad Eugene Stoner didn't include a chainsaw in his patent for this thing!" He spun around as he fired at the floor and made a complete circle. His pants were sprayed with slivers and the floor creaked and groaned when he was done. Without thinking, he jumped up and stomped down hard with his heels as he landed. To his surprise, he fell through. He landed on a spilled pile of cans and lost his footing. As he sat down the hardest and most painful since his crash-landing in the SKYSHARK, his brother ran across the room with his pistol in hand. St John looked at the bodies scattered around the oversized kitchen, picked himself up and said,

"Well String you certainly got lucky with that 10mm. Although I'm slightly curious since I thought I saw 2 muzzle flashes."

"You did. This thing jammed again so I persuaded a couple of them to give me their guns." While getting to his feet, St John gestured for the MP-5/10mm. There was the sound of feet descending the stairwell and Stringfellow readied his shotgun. He glanced over as his brother brought his knee and the butt of the H&K94 sharply together. This effectively cleared the jam and St John cycled the action to eject the spent casing before handing it back over.

Rather than immediately taking the weapon, Stringfellow waited until the footfalls were at the bottom of the steps and then flung open the sliding doors to the kitchen and poured multiple shot-blasts at the men trying to escape. Stringfellow grabbed the submachinegun as his brother tossed it to him on their way to the front door. Stringfellow first noted his brother had already switched the 10mm over to 3-round-burst before he started firing again.

Instead of having a few providing cover fire on the run, all of the retreating gunmen ran as a group toward the road. A couple of those running away were faster or slower and moved away from the rest.

St John dropped the clip from his weapon and glanced at a couple clips in his sling before he found one that he inserted which his brother could easily see was only half-loaded. He looked over at his brother and smiled,

"Do it, to it; String. Show them that Major Hawke can be a major pain at times." Both of them opened fire. St John was firing select-fire as fast as he could pull the trigger. It was more accurate to fire that way and he was picking off the few in the lead before they could get to the trees in case they had heavier weapons ready. Stringfellow was firing 3-round bursts as fast as he could stroke the trigger.

There was some return fire but much of it was ineffective as it simply kicked up dirt about halfway between the two firing parties. Only a handful actually made it to the treeline. The brothers noted it was on the far end of the property from the road. As they both reloaded, St John commented,

"This is completely extraordinary. Yet it is just another day in the life of the Hawke family." His brother started to share his laugh. Suddenly Stringfellow got a perplexed look on his face and lifted his gLESses and lowered them again.

"There's an overturned van at the start of the curve. Let's go check it out." Minutes later they were at the site of Reg's handiwork. As he checked the young man's vital signs, St John mused,

"I wonder which is in worse shape, Reg or the van?" Stringfellow made a pinched expression and sighed,

"The van I could care less about. His broken body is all that matters right now. This is getting too personal for my taste. Excuse me while I place a call." St John glanced at his watch and noted how late it was in relation to midnight. _NOW?!_ He gave his brother a bewildered look as Stringfellow snapped his cell open with a flick of his wrist.

"Hello Arch… Yes I know what time it… No I'm not trying to… I know that you are busy… Will you please list… _Michael_, SHUT UP!" The familiar voice on the other end continued to rant for another second and then came to an abrupt halt. Stringfellow took a breath and continued, "That's better now, Thank you! I simply wanted to let you know that the answer to both your questions is 'Yes'. No I don't have any stipulations or considerations in the matter. Yes I know what the arguments are; I made most of them and they still stand. My only request is that he asks me himself in person. Yes I think I deserve that. No it is not a demand, I'm just of the opinion that it was his concept in the first place and that our working relationship should give some consideration in the matter. Yes I know we will have to clarify some things and I'm perfectly willing to meet at your earliest convenience. I'll have to call in some favors, especially from my brother about the one aspect. My apologies for disturbing your evening's activities and extend my respects to your guest." St John waited patiently with a look which said _Ok I'll bite, what's going on?_ Stringfellow closed his phone and sighed,

"We need to talk."


	30. Chapter 30

This chapter was originally titled "The Robbery". Yet another chapter to feature KC, yet this one highlights Stringfellow Hawke as well.

* * *

"And with my signature, this transaction is concluded." Hawke grinned as he shook hands with Mudde. Reg marveled as he commented,

"1.5 million is a lot to ride on a signature." KC grinned as he handed over a briefcase,

"Well it is only the initial grant. The $30,000 in this case is the petty cash for the business office." Reg shook his head in wonder and shrugged his good shoulder. Mudde looked over at the young black man and asked,

"So when you were driving for that gang, you never handled this much money?" Reg shook his head again and laughed. He started to say something but the laugh hurt his broken arm. He winced and flexed the fingers of his injured hand. He sighed,

"No Sir. The only person to let me have that much money at once is Mr Dom. Of course Mr Stringfellow keeps reminding me that I have to use it for the business. Whenever I spend even a dime of the 2 grand I have to keep the receipts and do the paperwork ever day. When I used to drive for the crew, I was never a money man even though that was one of the charges they stacked on when I agreed to the bargain." Mudde nodded his reply.

It was fairly common knowledge that Reg's prison time had been cut in half following a police corruption scandal. It had come out from an informant that Reg had been burned by an undercover cop who had been turning gangs against each other to profit from the resulting police confusion. When the undercover had been killed during a confrontation with a uniformed officer, one of the unlicensed weapons the undercover had access to was determined to be the murder weapon during the hit that Reg had been the driver for which had sent the young black man to prison.

The young man had always been a fair mechanic so Ray had persuaded Santini to let his brother help maintain the vehicles after being hired to be a janitor. This was instead of having him going to a halfway house following his parole arrangement.

Mudde made his way over to the safe and opened it. The Sheriff then strode over to where Hawke was standing and said,

"Well since the man couldn't be here, I guess it falls to you to ensure the count is accurate. Make sure the safe looks nice as you stack it." Reg looked over at Hawke, knowing that his boss usually kept him on a pretty tight leash. He missed the knowing look that Mudde gave Hawke right before Hawke smiled,

"As someone on probation, you should know it is good advice to obey a lawful order from a peace officer." Reg smiled and busied himself with the task. With only one arm to use, the task progressed slowly. He was nearly to the halfway point when the front door opened. KC, who was seated in a stacking chair at the entrance to the office, feigned sleep as he watched the men enter through narrowed eyes. The man in front was a large Hispanic wearing a trench coat and Mudde addressed him as Hawke turned to face them,

"Something I can help you with?" Trench coat replied with a light accent,

"Yes, we heard that money was being given away and we wanted to participate." Hawke replied evenly,

"Unfortunately this is a private party and the money is in…" Trench coat retorted snidely,

"Fortunately I have an invitation!" In a classic Hollywood cliché, he flipped open his trench coat and whipped a shotgun into position. Only a heartbeat behind, the others made a grab for their guns as well.

The supposedly asleep KC suddenly went into action. He flung both arms up and kicked up with one leg while pushing off with the other. This caused him to do a backflip over the chair. As he landed, he swept a leg around and up which caused the chair he had been sitting on to go flying. It impacted squarely with the man wielding the shotgun and tore the weapon from his grasp. The man tried to shove the chair away but that only resulted in him getting even more entangled.

Mudde took this as his cue to step into the fray. The ham-fisted law-enforcement officer put to good use some of the skills he had acquired from his boxing hobby. The first was a reverse punch to the wind of a squat and stocky black kid with cornrows. As the kid doubled over, Mudde nailed him with a wicked uppercut.

Hawke grabbed the shotgun out of midair and reversed it in order to use it as a club in order to flatten the nose of another punk. Hawke did a _'heaven & earth'_ maneuver. He stepped between two of the punks and smashed outward with his right fist and left foot. Both connected solidly and he turned to confront the last remaining punk. He stepped forward in anticipation of the punk's potential for fighting back and nearly stepped in front of KC's foot as he went to apply the finishing strike to put the punk down.

As KC and Hawke tied the unconscious punks up, Mudde helped Reg to finish stacking the money. Reg stood up and adjusted his sling. He was sweating from the pain but KC grinned as he whispered something to Hawke. Stringfellow got a wicked grin on his face as he winked at Mudde,

"Better shake him down and make sure he didn't take a premature loan." Reg protested that _he'd only spent $35 on gas from the petty cash he carried and that he would never do something to..._ He stopped and scowled angrily as he realized they were all having a laugh at his expense. KC suggested after looking over the bound men,

"Perhaps we should drag them outside while we wait for the police?" Mudde shook his head,

"Nah its best to leave them where we found them. Let the lab rats sort everything out for us." Stringfellow concurred,

"I think I've had enough fun for one day. I want to go back to the hangar, Get out of this suit, kick back with a case of Gatorade and jalapeño Doritos while I watch the 15 hours of Israeli soccer matches I have TiVOed." There was a round of knowing chuckles at this since every time he had made this plan something always came up to prevent him from doing it and it was somewhat of a running joke around Hawke Aviation that it was some sort of bizarre conspiracy against him. Reg grunted in pain as he absentmindedly shrugged his shoulders. He'd once tried to 'win points' by asking if he could watch the videos with Hawke. His boss' reply had been to say that _it was still a free country_.

They all left the storefront and turned toward the parking lot. As they came to the end of the building and rounded the corner, they nearly collided with a group of armed men who were walking away from a dark van! The man in the lead of the group triggered off a 6 round burst at point-blank range to Stringfellow Hawke's chest.

Two things saved Hawke's life. The first was that Mudde reacted without thinking and threw himself in front of the mini-UZI taking all of the rounds into the trauma plate of his bulletproof vest but ruining the brand-new suit which probably cost more than his house…the only thought that the Sheriff had as he fell was that he wasn't sure which hurt more, getting shot in the chest or that the suit was now ruined. The second thing which saved Hawke's life was that KC drew his sidearm impossibly fast and returned fire. The first clip was emptied in one long, sustained roar which lasted about a second.

The first shot from his gun was literally fired from KC's hip and smashed into the mini-UZI while the next two progressed as he extended his arm and tracked to hit the wielder of the mini-UZI in the chest and shoulder. The next rounds continued this track to engage two more of the men behind the one with the mini-UZI.

Hawke had drawn his own weapon but had instinctively stepped back when KC had stepped forward and now did not have a shot. He continued to keep low and grabbed Mudde by the back of his belt to help him as the older man crawled toward a nearby car.

Reg had already taken cover and was practically inside the wheel well of the vehicle when Hawke and Mudde appeared. The young black man grabbed the collar of the suitjacket and pulled with his good arm. Hawke tersely ordered his employee to roll the man over and check him out.

There was a shout from KC and Hawke spun up into a crouch to see the man coming up from a crouch of his own on the other side of the car. Hawke watched in near slow-motion as KC smoothly reloaded by dropping his empty mag and inserting a fresh one in the same instant. The former commando didn't even slow his firing. KC did a roll to one side which gave Hawke a clear field of fire. So far there were 5 bodies on the ground with three more approaching in a van from across the parking lot.

Knowing full well it was a Hollywood myth to shoot the tires of an approaching vehicle, Hawke blasted the windshield on the driver's side. The occupants of the van continued to fire at KC but he seemed not only oblivious but immune to the incoming rounds. He took a short step and then his whole body seemed to unwind like a tightly-coiled spring as he gave a mighty leap over the vehicle his friends had taken cover behind. KC landed near Hawke and quickly positioned himself next to his boss to continue firing. One of Hawke's rounds hit home and a shooter fell out of the van.

The van seemed to stagger in its path for an instant and then the driver must have changed his mind about his goals. The vehicle suddenly swerved to one side and tore through the chain-link fence which separated the strip mall from the highway on-ramp. The van disappeared from sight and KC and Hawke shared a look as if to say _They'll never make it..._

There was the solid crunching sound of metal on gravel and the screech of tires followed by a shower of sparks arcing over the concrete restraining wall. An instant later, the van appeared on the other side of the bridge heading against the flow of traffic! KC and Hawke expressed their disbelief at this occurrence of dumb luck as they bolted in opposite directions. KC made for the Hawke Aviation pickup truck while Hawke took off at a dead run to follow the van.

It was a near-impossible stretch, but if Hawke could make it to the embankment on the other side of the bridge, he could possibly beat the van before it came around. Before he even left the parking lot, it struck Hawke that it could lead to a severe case of lead poisoning if the police intercepted him running from the scene of a firefight with a gun in his hand. He holstered his sidearm, pulled out his dog-tags and, with a flash of inspiration, reached into his back pocket. He always kept his Marshall's Service Reserve Officer's badge there. He'd been given the badge along with all the full-time members of Hawke Aviation when the service had been used to escort some high-value targets. Hawke clipped the badge to his chain as he continued to run. He whipped out his .40 once again as he heard a screech of tires and the grinding crunch of metal on metal.

The instant Hawke had disappeared into the rows of cars, KC had slapped the pickup into reverse and gunned his way across the parking lot. Luckily there were no pedestrians as everyone had gone for cover at the start of the shooting. He threaded the needle as he sped through the Burger King drive-thru in reverse, narrowly missing a station wagon filled with cowering teenagers. KC whipped the steering wheel and spun the vehicle around. As he headed for the embankment by the on-ramp he spotted Hawke crossing over the bridge, SIG-Sauer in hand, badge flapping in midair behind him.

"This is Sheriff Mudde, reporting an officer-involved shooting." The man gasped into his cell. He was sweating from the pain. He was having a hard time getting enough air so he handed the phone to Reg with the words,

"Tell them son!" Reg was a huge fan of CSI:NY and had actually met Sinise while doing location work with Mr Nick.

"Officer down! Struck center mass with 6 automatic rounds. We need back up and an Ambulance stat!" Reg reported calmly. As the young man paused, the Sheriff looked over and saw one of the commandos KC had shot was moving. With his left hand, he reached around and grabbed his service pistol. He flicked off the safety for the 9mm Ruger and groaned,

"Son, take my gun and use it if you see any of those guys moving." Reg stared at the weapon as Mudde extended the pistol while holding it by the barrel. Reg knew how to hold it but the handle was moist from sweat. That was not the reason he was so hesitant to take the weapon.

"Uh Sir, the only time I have ever fired _anything_ was in the paintball tournament…"

"So you do know how to shoot? Good, just think of the bullets as killer paintballs!" Reluctantly, Reg accepted the weapon. He ground his back teeth as this was the second time in as many days that he was faced with the decision to use lethal force.

Hawke had now reached the far end of the bridge. With his free hand, he grabbed the top of the guardrail and vaulted over. It wasn't until he was almost clear that he realized he'd miscalculated slightly. He was closer to the wall at the top of the embankment than he'd intended. Due to his inertia, he was able to kick his feet up and take two steps along the wall which could either be considered diagonal or sideways. He tried to take a third step but was now to a low crouch and nearly split his chin open with his knee in the process. He slapped his free hand 'down' only inches from where the grass started and did an awkward somersault to correct his maneuver. He nearly stumbled due to the uneven ground but managed to somehow keep his footing.

He heard the roar of a familiar engine and looked under the bridge to see the Hawke Aviation pickup pursuing the van using a wild and varying, nearly perpendicular, path. KC was navigating 'down' the opposite embankment which was considerably less steep than the one that Hawke had nearly stumbled down.

The van had gotten to the curve across from Hawke and realized it was not a good place to be by heading toward the person they were attacking while driving against traffic. It worked in movies but was dangerously unrealistic.

As KC crossed the median he was almost driving sideways at an odd angle and Hawke expected the vehicle to flip over but it held. KC straightened out the truck and all but came off both axles as it cleared one of the curbs. Only one of the 4 tires was still touching the ground as the truck nearly went airborne.

Hawke was beginning to aim he pistol at the van again as the pickup came back down. Hard. Despite the off-road lift package, the undercarriage sent out a shower of sparks as it contacted the ground. Hawke was about to begin to pull the trigger again when something threw off his momentum. It was an arriving police car. It threw off his momentum by running into him. Or it would have if Hawke hadn't had the wits to jump at the last second.

He almost didn't make it.

The man behind the wheel looked fresh-faced and petrified. Obviously a rookie fresh out of the Academy. Had he turned at the last second to create a defensive position, Hawke would have just rolled over the hood and kept going. Instead, Hawke rolled and slid almost up to the light bar before sliding back down the windshield to the hood. The only thing the rookie saw was the gun in Hawke's hand.

The rookie tried to stop the car and exit while drawing his own sidearm. The problem was that the vehicle was not at a complete stop when he tried to exit, his seat belt was still locked, and his sidearm's holster was still fastened.

For a brief instant, Hawke nearly laughed at the comedy of errors as the rookie got nearly halfway out of the car and then returned just as abruptly; not entirely of his own volition. Hawke flipped his badge around and slapped it against the windshield. The rookie was reaching for the seatbelt release when Hawke bellowed,

"_DRIVE!!"_

The rookie froze for an instant.

His training officer was obviously someone with years of experience as he swung his leg over and slammed the accelerator down. The next few seconds were all a compressed blur as the Hawke Aviation pickup truck and the police car raced to cutoff the van.

There were already 4 accidents due to the van's erratic path and another happened as the two vehicles blocked the van, which tried to blow through a guardrail. The van bounced off and made a beeline for the police car. While somehow holding onto the his precarious position for dear life, Hawke managed to pump a few more rounds at the van as another UZI-toting gunman slid open the van's side door. KC also fired his weapon.

He'd seen all of Hawke's shots score on the front grille and thought his boss was trying for a _'Hollywood'_ disable. A vehicle with too many holes in its engine would eventually be disabled, but it cost ammunition and was not particularly effective. The faster a vehicle was moving, the less effective it became. It was far easier, not to mention efficient, to fire at the occupants behind the windows. Unfortunately, that wasn't always a safe bet either if the glass was at an angle or the vehicle was moving fast or changing direction.

There was a shout from inside the police car and Hawke bailed from his perch just before the car careened to one side and came to a halt. This time the rookie did a textbook bailout to have the car act as a defensive position. The Sergeant clamored across the front seat and joined his trainee at the front of the vehicle. Hawke was at a high crouch near the back as KC brought the truck to an abrupt halt at the rear of the car and stepped out, leaving the door open.

The Sergeant stood and challenged the occupants of the van with revolver drawn. The van's door gunner responded with a short 3-round burst which stitched its way across the Sergeant's body armor. The Sergeant fell but could still see the shooter's leg under the police car. Despite the pain in his chest, the veteran muttered as he triggered off 3 of the 6 bullets in his wheelgun,

"My first time in a firefight and I get knocked down before I get a shot off–somebody's gonna pay!" The first shot hit his attacker's knee dead center. The second one hit high on the opposite hip. The final round hit the low abdomen. From his position, the Sergeant could not see his target's chest but he was still confident enough damage had been done as his attacker fell.

The van's driver leapt out with a mini-UZI in each hand and opened fire 'Woo style' on the police car. He only managed to get off about a dozen rounds before the rookie, Hawke and KC returned fire simultaneously. There was one prolonged roar as the commando jerked and staggered to his death.

Hawke reloaded without thinking. KC laughed lightly as the 3 of them approached the van in a spread out formation to check for survivors. The rookie seemed afraid to move as each step was tenuous and there was a trembling in his hands. KC's chuckle came from the fact that the rookie was still so unnerved he didn't realize he was still pulling the trigger on his Glock. The department-issued weapon had been completely emptied and the slide was locked open. KC opened his mouth to make a suggestion but Hawke beat him to it,

"Uh son, you may want to reload your sidearm and then report this in." Hawke and KC shared a knowing look as the rookie seemed to struggle with his weapon for a moment before his training kicked in and he managed to get it reloaded. Abandoning protocol for the initial call he blurted out,

"Holy Jeezit! We beenina shootin!" This elicited a laugh from Hawke as well. As Hawke and KC cleared the back of the van, Hawke suggested,

"Next time I take the car. I'm getting too old for this stuff!"


	31. Chapter 31

This was originally titled "Consulting the Angel". I wanted to highlight the other side of the Stringfellow Hawke-Michael 'Archangel' Coldsmith-Briggs III relationship (the rarely-seen respected adversaries/antagonistic part).

* * *

"This is not what I was intending when I agreed to this!" Hawke slammed his hand down onto the surface of the desk.

He wanted either to reach across the desk and smash his sometime nemesis across his good eye until it swelled shut or to wrap his hands around the other man's neck until the lack of oxygen let the other man realize how cut off he truly felt.

Unfortunately, neither would give Stringfellow the satisfaction he truly wanted so he relented.

It was still maddening that Michael was wearing that self-assured half-grin as he softly replied to Stringfellow's outburst,

"But this is what you agreed to in practice if not in theory. We are fighting a different kind of war now and we need to be better prepared for any contingency at a moment's notice. When we used to wield AIRWOLF, the era of brinkmanship was at its height and the threat of power was sufficient as a deterrence against our opponents. Even our enemies have grown to respect us after a fashion. But now we simply don't have that luxury. You know as well as I do that those we fight against simply aren't interested in politics so we simply cannot afford to take our fingers off the triggers." Hawke's eyes kept their intense glare from less than 1 foot from his sometimes ally.

The man made enough sense that Hawke's jaw muscles unclenched. It didn't make it any easier to swallow.

This agreement would undo all the work he fought so hard to achieve.

It would put him back under the thumb of Michael Coldsmith-Briggs once again. It would be like the last 10 years had never happened.

A part of that made his pulse quicken with the anticipation of living on the razor's edge where the placement of one fired bullet could radically alter the balance of power in a region. Another part of him was furious for allowing the man on the other side of the desk to manipulate him into this position.

Archangel was a grand master chess player when it came to playing people so Stringfellow knew that this turn of events had been the goal all along. The placing of the 3 reserve SKYSHARK helicopters at locations situated for his convenience of access.

It was all too _neat_ for his liking.

Another part of him was almost glad that his mentor was not in a position to be able to be informed of the unique turn of events. Dom would have unleashed a holy tirade the likes of which would cause Wes Craven tremble in his boots. Having the 'men in the white suits' snooping around Hawke Aviation would have the Italian patriarch going ballistic on a perpetual basis.

Not that Stringfellow would blame him in the least. It was not a concept which he found appealing either.

It meant that his business was going to radically altered for the convenience of National Security. It was going to cause problems for many, if not most, of his clients and that was his singular greatest concern. Keeping his voice to a low, dangerous growl, Strinfellow insisted,

"But we agreed that this program was to fall under my jurisdiction and I was to be given wide latitude as far as autonomy was concerned." As soon as he said them, he fully realized how hollow the words sounded even to him. It was a bluff and longshot at that even.

Archangel at least tried to act as though he wasn't taking the bait and running with it. He matched Hawke's steely-eyed glare and replied smoothly,

"Face it String, you are the best pilot in the country if not the world. Your familiarity with the program not to mention SYSHARK makes you the greatest asset to this project. Not to mention your position within Church Consulting means that having you available and on the front lines at a moment's notice is a convenient necessity…" Hawke cut in at this,

"Well goody two shoes for you, I'm a matter of convenience as far as National Security is concerned. You know you are an arrogant jerk at times when you have the facts on your side. I have other obligations to consider at this point such as my family and business…" It was Coldsmith-Briggs' turn to interrupt,

"All right now look! Life goes on; as in all things. You know as well as I do that those things were here long before you got involved and will still be going on long after you have been taken out of the picture. Whether by choice or happenstance. You need to decide whether you still want this or if you'd rather pursue other considerations. I ask since Newman is of the opinion that I'd be perfect to administer the SKYSHARK program should you decide to take a more active role." Hawke raised his hand off the desk slightly and balled it up into a fist. He then tapped the desk with the fist. Hawke whipped off his reading glasses and demanded in a tone that Coldsmith-Briggs knew meant that his comrade was being pushed to a line which would be dangerous for anyone to cross.

Michael nearly grinned at the gesture, which was known as the Caine-whip as a way to mock the trademark way to punctuate a ridiculous one-liner on the TV show CSI:MIAMI. He knew that Stringfellow hated the show since it was so badly written and acted. Hawke had spent a week in Los Angeles doing location shots and had declared that it 'was 6 days too many'. The set politics, weak plot, cast arrogance, and simple lack of integrity and respect for the profession they were representing. The whole point of the series was seemingly for a labrat to go around killing hispanic/latino suspects using circumstantial evidence. Never mind that _real _labrats spent all of their in LAB, did not carry guns, did not interact with nor attempt to intimidate suspects and they most certainly did not run around in designer suits. The one positive thing about the experience was that Hawke had won a argument with one of the crewmembers when he said that he'd love to be arrested by anyone on the show since it would never hold up in court. Michael mulled all this as Hawke gestured with the ear of his glasses while saying,

"So they want to place you back in as Deputy Director? Where does that leave me? Is this their way of informing me that their whole plan was to place me in a position to do more harm than good?! Oh Good Lord, this is beyond incredble!"

"With the founding of the Department of Homeland Security, the _Olympus Committee_ was dissolved so we no longer answer to ZEUS and the others. I made the recommendation for you since I frankly trust you more than I do your brother or Nick. You and I did nice work years ago and this is the best option we all have. Having a SKYSHARK made available on-site at Hawke Aviation, your cabin, and the old farmhouse is a measure of convenience for you that would leave you in a position that Church Consulting could not readily dismiss you. It goes against the cover we've established but having a Special Weapons Division with its own Secretary would be ideal for you."

"And a Divisional Secretary is immediately subordinate to a Departmental Manager which has the added benefit of being a Deputy Director. The only drawback is that the Secretaries have seats on the Leadership Council but have only a limited voice and no voting privileges. So I go from being a General to being a Sergeant?"

"More like a Lieutenant. You and I have similar agendas even if our motives, not to mention methods, are different. We can work together on this String. Trust me." He actually allowed a bit of the grin to slip though but Hawke misinterpreted the gesture,

"Oh Michael please! Don't try your magnanimous act on me! This situation is a winner for you alone. I never wanted to be put into a position where I was pursuing a mutually beneficial gambit. I only wanted to bring about the balance of power behind the scenes. At my age, there are others who can do the job better than I can and they are likely much more willing. So wipe that _'Archangel'_ smile off your face Michael, its not going to work with me this time! Years ago, you were put into a position where you were forced to trust me so I guess this turnabout is par for the course. Just remember that my family is part of the equation now and I must consult with them before I make any decision. Before you try to talk me out of it, I want you to realize that this is likely for your benefit. I'm more than reluctant to pursue this venture yet my brother will likely jump at the chance. He'll certainly bring Nick along with him as well. My main concern is that Dom is unavailable to challenge me on this. He's my soul in matters such as this and has a clarity of thought and that gives focus to my convictions." Archangel blithely and without emotion replied,

"Then perhaps now is as good a time as any to get out from under his influence. He is a good mentor but perhaps you should find your own way in this. Have you ever thought that your so-called _convictions_ just might fall under the banner of 'false guilt'? In this day and age it seems to me that thinking on your own would be a preferable stance." This raised Hawke's ire and he frowned,

"That is completely unfair not to mention uncalled for! Dom has been like a father and best friend to me. He has worked with you on missions of national concern without question. Oh sure, he has voiced reservation where the motives of who you work for and what they represent are concerned. Despite the conflicting agendas and interests, he has always been loyal and his integrity has been beyond reproach. Even when we offered him a job, he accepted without reservation even though he did voice his usual concerns which lead to certain compromises being made on our part. If he wasn't such a valuable resource, why were we so willing to consider his qualifications since he obviously doesn't need us?" Archangel paused as thought he were measuring his words and then spoke evenly,

"You're right it may not be fair. But few things in life are fair. I seem to recall Dom saying something along the lines of _"the only thing in life that is FAIR is the one the county puts on each year!"_. I also recall someone saying that _"fairness is not the aim of a society governed by a Federal Republic, it is more of a sense of moderated justice instead. If you be moderate in the justness of your life and dealings then your life can have meaning._" or words to that effect." Hawke shot him a dirty look and sighed,

"So you read the transcript of my testimony before Congress. Congratulations Mikey!" Coldsmith-Briggs didn't even pretend to ignore the insult. The one-eyed spy narrowed his eye and nearly spat a retort at Hawke. His lips thinned, he took a breath, held that breath for a moment, and let that breath out through clenched teeth.

Stringfellow felt a momentary twinge of guilt at the other man's annoyance. He kept the half-smile on his lips and shook his head while shrugging his shoulders. Contrary to his usual demeanor, for once in his life Hawke simply didn't care. He was very angry and wanted to do something to wipe that smug look off of Michael's face.

Some small part of Hawke realized that Archangel had a point. But Stringfellow felt that his own reservations needed to be voiced as well. He sighed and said,

"No matter how far up the chain of command one goes, there is still always someone you answer to. Politically and professionally, it was at one point Newman. Perhaps that now falls to you as well, much to my intrigued chagrin. As far as my heart and/or soul goes, I have always looked to Dom as a source of inspiration. The fact that he is now incapacitated means everything and nothing to me at the same time. There was always the risk that one day the bullet with my or his name on it would come in some lonely mission in some lost part of the world and that would be that. During the years of St John's absence, Dom was all but convinced that every time the phone rang it would be you calling to inform him that the AIRWOLF mission had met with catastrophic failure. That is why he involved himself in the FIRM's workings more and more even though he despised the men in white suits sticking their noses in his business. According to him, he was doing his best for their own good since it was more than likely that he'd trained their trainers. I'd still like to think that all those years accounted for something and that I've become accustomed to his thought process. Going out of my way to get myself and my family in danger would likely make me the recipient of an Italian tantrum. I'm sure that my best bet would be to lay the details out to my brother and Nick and take the exact opposite of their reaction to heart. Oh the irony of it all! In the days of AIRWOLF, it was so much easier to define what we were doing which meant that justifying it was a clearer path. I know that what we are trying to instate is for the greater good and I want to ensure that the right thing is accomplished all around for everyone involved. I just don't like the fact that I feel like I'm always having to have my back up against the wall just so the powers that be can work things out according to their agenda. Of course, if I hadn't set things into motion by scuttling the SCORPION project by calling in the favors I did, we wouldn't be having this discussion. My main problem right now Michael is that I did this to myself and you helped me do it. I hesitate to ask if this was the whole idea all along, or am I simply reading too much into things and letting the paranoia I have developed as a defense mechanism over my tenure here and allowing it to fill in the blanks. It would make more sense than anything else. It would serve your agenda and the interests of Church Consulting as a whole. Mind you, I have done my best to separate Church Consulting's agenda from the original intent of the founding directives of the Church Commission. The problem was from the beginning is that I found their intent to be not only counterproductive but potentially dangerous as well. I know you disagree with this assessment because it serves your purposes. If the overall circumstances mean that you are pursuing my resignation, I guess the time has come for you and I to find out who has more power personally and politically. If you want a fight, I'm more than happy and willing to give it to you come what may. I know what you are capable of but I warn you I'm a quite capable opponent." Archangel chose not to debate the topic and instead opted to defuse the heat of he moment, knowing full well that Hawke could get heated up at a moment's notice. He smiled evenly,

"I have no desire to confront you. This action is political. This is not personal by any measure. If you want a fight, you are more than welcome to it but you must realize that I'm not your enemy on this matter." Hawke pressed his lips together and shook his head. His back was in a corner and he knew it.

He was out of options.

Stringfellow wasn't pleased in the least with the change of events but he knew that there had to be some grand scheme of things. Both his brother and now his boss were insisting that he go back into action. It was the least of two evils in his opinion. He matched the small smile on the other man's face and slowly sat down. He then leaned forward slightly to rest his forearms on the desk as Coldsmith-Briggs stepped back to lower himself into a chair. Stringfellow sighed,

"Well, _Boss_,what is the plan then?" Archangel ignored the sarcasm loaded into the word 'Boss' and responded evenly,

"You will provide cover for our meeting with the group from LaFiamma. It is supposed to be a straightforward exchange of information. They are trying to set things up with the safety net that benefits themselves so I want my own ace in the hole. They are unlikely to expect you to running security with a customized limo in the entourage. I'm hoping that will give us some small advantage. Although in a perfect world, we wouldn't actually 'need' any advantage." As Michael frowned the last sentence, Hawke cut in with a raised index finger,

"Agreed. But when an ally begins to act erratically, something about it stinks. Either their hand has been forced or they are trying to force yours."


	32. Chapter 32

This chapter was originally titled "Newman visits String". As I bring the story to a close, I wanted to feature the enigmatic Newman and play him off Stringfellow. This chapter featured the most use of Sign Language as well as the most prevalent part of the Stargate crossover. This chapter was written before the chapter in which the cabin gets attacked so the reader must accept that the cabin is sufficiently fixed for human habitation at this point.

* * *

String watched on the monitor as the Government issue SUV eased to a quiet stop at the end of the drive. Two men made their way to the foot of the steps to the cabin where Hawke's voice greeted them via the intercom,

"Good evening gentlemen. Please enter and check your weapons at the end of the kitchen counter." They complied, both placing the usual Beretta 92 handguns where asked. Hawke grinned and shook his head. The people in his department weren't allowed to carry either Berettas or Glocks. They were both good guns but since they were a favorite of Hollywood, it clearly identified the user as either a Hollywood poser or a Weekend Warrior Wannabe _or_ especially as someone who was officially issued the weapon. His own sidearm was SIGArms .40 and he eased it back into the pancake holster on his hip.

Jo buzzed her wheelchair into the kitchen from the study where she had been using the computer. Hawke was about to make introductions when she started 'speaking' in sign language to one of them,

+Hello Jack how are you doing?+ The younger of the two men grinned and replied,

+I'm fine Jo-Jo it is good to see you again+ Hawke then spoke up,

"Well gentlemen, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Newman replied nonchalantly,

"I wanted to have a chat with you and O'Neill was coming up to his cabin which is in this area." O'Neill piped up at this,

"Yes, my promotion to General came with a payraise but it just wasn't enough for my taste so I decided to moonlight as a taxi driver" Jo giggled and Newman rolled his eyes. Hawke smiled and then addressed Newman,

"Is this just a 'friendly chat' or is it following Church Consulting's trend of _mixing pleasure with business_ as my brother would put it?"

"This is pretty much a confidential matter." Newman answered. Hawke shrugged and gestured toward the door as he suggested,

"Then let's step into my office while these two get reacquainted." Jo buzzed over to the couch while Jack sat down. Knowing what was next, he waited to make himself comfortable and stayed leaning forward. She took up position next to him and reached forward. They embraced tightly and he grinned boyishly as she kissed him on the cheek. She signed,

+I have missed you+

+Same here+ He responded. She paused and then asked,

+How is Danny doing?+ He seemed a bit uncomfortable as he replied,

+Keeping busy. It has been a bit rough since he came back to duty+

+I understand. Your work is dangerous and with him listed as MIA for an extended time, he likely wants to put the past behind him+ Jack nodded and responded,

+Yes. It was quite a strange experience getting to work with him again.+

+Sammy told me that she felt awkward being around him at first. Since he is such a professional, the working together helped the relationship along.+ Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes misted up as she made the gestures. Jack patted her leg in sympathy. Suddenly realizing how ridiculous this was, he smiled as he reached over and put his hand on her shoulder and then stroked her hair with a thumb. She smiled back and then asked,

+Would you please send Danny my love?+

+Of course Jo-jo, you know that all you have to do is ask. Well, within reason of course. I still owe you for that big favor you did for my family all those years ago.+

+I would love to do it personally but I understand that would create problems with your employer. Don't worry about any favors from the past. Your friendship is thanks enough, I wouldn't want Sammy to get jealous.+ They shared a laugh at this.

O'Neill wrung his hands out from the effort of the Sign Language. Santini reached over and massaged his hands and forearms. They both fell silent and glanced over to the window where they could just see Hawke's back at the edge of the porch and that he was reading something.

For his part, Hawke read and reread the document Newman had wordlessly handed to him. Hawke had stopped in his tracks upon reading the first sentence. Newman had continued into the yard several paces and then turned halfway to face the lake. Hawke managed to find his way to the bottom of the steps where he sat down. He spent about 20 minutes, reading the document 3 times. His brows deepened in intensity each time he read it. He finally looked at Newman with an intense stare but an even voice,

"You realize what this contract entails? I need time to think about this." Newman turned his head to face Hawke and nodded,

"I understand completely. It is a difficult decision to make as it will affect a lot of people. I can only give you 24 hours to make your decision. There is a video on that disk I gave you which you need to watch first." Hawke arched an eyebrow as he replied with a sigh,

"Well Newman..." The man raised a hand to interrupt him,

"Please Director Hawke, call me Brian." Hawke paused and grinned. He knew that St John called him Jason, while Archangel called him Adam, and everyone he knew called him by yet other names. It was shrewd, since that way whenever someone called his name he automatically knew who the speaker was by the name which was used. Hawke began again,

"Well Brian, I don't know of anything that can be said to cause me to make up my mind any faster." Newman smiled,

"Not what but who. I'm sure we have found one person in particular who can make a very convincing and persuasive argument." The eyebrow went up again as Stringfellow commented,

"Since I sincerely doubt you got Dom to sign up for this little venture, I wonder who. I know my respect for our former Vice-President certainly would catch my attention." This got a nod and a laugh out of Newman, who quickly got very serious as he said,

"When you see who it is, you will realize just how serous we are about this endeavor. I personally am well-motivated given my son's murder. Since we have clarified all the international assignments, We have a couple reserve SKYSHARK units. Along with the official duties that you have assigned to the domestic SKYSHARK team members, I'd like to have a reserve SKYSHARK kept and maintained by Hawke Aviation. This is for the times when events take on a turn where special attention is required but it may not necessarily be of national concern." Hawke's brows narrowed and he frowned,

"Sort of another version of the tacit arrangement we used to have with Michael? Thanks but no thanks, Brian. I accepted this assignment because it put me in a position to make some real change. I prefer to pursue peace on a grand scale rather than enforce it piecemeal in blood. My work with the SKYSHARK program is a way of passing on my work and knowledge to the next generation. What I have done will continue on in the efforts of others. I know that my work in the past has been effective. Not only from feedback I have gotten from Michael, but from the respect I have in regard to reliable contacts I now have who were once enemies of myself and this country. This has given me enough clout in the political machine of our organization to take the steps for those under my authority to reflect my change in perspective." Newman interjected easily,

"Although it would almost seem to be a contradiction in terms. Having a sledgehammer does not always mean that the other hammers are not going to take a swipe at any exposed nails. I realize that you are used to having it both ways. Unfortunately, times change and this makes it inevitable that we change with them. No matter how trite the aphorism, it is to the point that _freedom isn't free_. I too have blood on my hands from my time with establishing a special internal Counter-Terrorism agency. We had a hotshot agent who used to find trouble and fight it head-on for 24 hours at a time until he reached some sort of a conclusion. He always took the path of greatest resistance and it reminded me of your exploits. I know that as a field agent, you feel there is little comparison. Perhaps now that you have spent some time as an administrator, you can place some perspective from my point-of-view. I know from your profile that you no longer have an interest in being a soldier and you'd rather pursue the interests of the intelligence field. Both have merit and there is a considerable amount of overlap." Hawke nodded and gestured for Newman to have a seat next to him.

They continued to talk for nearly an hour when the timer for the security system turned the outside lights on. By force of habit, Newman didn't even end the conversation. He simply stood and entered the cabin. The four made small talk for about half an hour while standing near the top of the ramp connecting the kitchen and the living room.

Newman glanced over at the Berettas and Hawke took this as his cue to hand them over. The two weapons were identical even though one was issued by the Air Force and the other by the Church Consulting armorer on behalf of the CIA. Hawke had gotten the Special Projects to be issued sidearms by SIGArms since he felt it was less of an indicator that his people were carrying them officially. They both eased their sidearms into hip holsters and said their goodbyes.

Hawke and O'Neill saluted each other. Hawke and Newman shook hands while Santini and O'Neill shared an embrace and kissed each other on the cheek. When Santini reached her arms up to hug Newman, he tried to merely shake hands. The other two men chided him for being too 'macho' until he relented. As O'Neill and Newman left, O'Neill could be heard to say,

"You know you could try smiling once in a while. I can just about guarantee it that your face won't crack or fall off." There was a long pause and as they approached their vehicle, O'Neill concluded with, "See there now what did I tell you?"

Hawke waited until they had disappeared from sight to make his way back to the couch. He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and looked over to where Jo was still gazing out the window. He whistled to get her attention. His Sign Language was not up to par with the others and he knew that a whistle would catch the attention of her audial implants. She turned her chair around and drove on over to the couch. Hawke could tell from her red puffy eyes and her quivering chin that she was on the verge of crying.

Stringfellow tossed some of the pillows off and gestured for her sit next to him. He tried to help her transfer but she clearly did not need it. He could feel her arms through her blouse and they felt like tightly braided cords. She sighed heavily as she eased herself into a comfortable position. Her head was resting against his shoulder so he reached an arm around her and hugged her.

She began to weep softly. He quietly held her for a few minutes. Stringfellow gently stroked her golden hair until she looked up at him. She focused on his mouth to read his lips. It was contrary to logic for him, but she had told him that it was easier to read lips if the person whispered. The whispering caused the speaker to enunciate better while shouting, by comparison, the speaker usually tightened their facial muscles which made it harder to read. Hawke spoke tenderly to the woman he'd been raised with,

"I know, I know, I miss Doc as well. He was a nice guy." Jo replied softly through her tears,

"Sam told me that once he came back from being MIA, there was something different about him. I just would have liked a chance to see Danny again to tell him that I still love him." Stringfellow nodded in understanding,

"When I thought my brother was MIA, I thought it was the end of the world. My answer was to respond recklessly. Remember that Sammy said he lost his wife and that she bore a resemblance to you. I don't know if it would have been for the best for you if your relationship escalated and you may be seen as a stand-in for someone else. You know you are very precious to me so I don't mean that out of malice, I just can't see you settling for second best." He reached around and embraced her and she replied in kind. Her hug was firm, almost uncomfortably so.

_She doesn't know her own strength_.

His nose was right at her temple and he watched for a few moments as his breath ruffled her champagne blonde hair. Since her hair was not currently pulled back in a ponytail, it spilled down her neck to just below her shoulders. He could just barely see the edge of her audial implant though her hair from the angle he was looking. It looked like an oversized hearing aid and it sounded as though there was a soft hiss or buzz coming from it followed every few seconds by a high-pitched beep and then a low-pitched one. Neither of which she could actually hear.

Even though she was technically his employee, he had always had a special place for her in his heart. He knew she adored him as well from her confession years ago. They had known each other for about a couple decades or so now and, her looks notwithstanding, he'd always thought of her as a beautiful woman. She leaned her head back to say something, and he admired just how pretty she had become. She smiled as she began,

"You know String, I really..." She didn't get a chance to finish as he leaned forward and kissed her. They stayed there for a moment and then continued to talk for another hour or so. Stringfellow tried his best to use use the limited Sign Language he knew and Jo helped by showing him the correct gestures when he got stuck or made a mistake.

They spoke about their friendship and their professional relationship. Strigfellow surprised Jo when he informed her that he was accepting the offer to step down as Deputy Director so that Michael could resume his old duties. It was more practical since Michael was more adept at dealing with the Special Projects Department.

Stringfellow said that he had a design concept for a modified SKYSHARK and had requested to be placed in charge of the Special Weapons Division. This was to facilitate his commanding the SKYSHARK domestic teams and overseeing the international ones. Jo had actually seen the upgrades for the modified prototype templates and thought they made for an interesting contrast. They were more like the original AIRWOLF in that the weapons were not nearly as overt.

When she asked if he was interested in commanding one of the teams, he shrugged. He was intrigued by the _wolf in sheep's clothing_ motif of the upgraded versions but a production model was a long way off from the drawing board.

The fiscal year was over and it was a long process to get the approval for an extensive project such as this. He'd called in many favors to get the SKYSHARK program running and had had to get other equally valid projects sidelined.

His testimony before Congress had put a face on the diversion of funds which had the unfortunate side-effect of alienating some friends and burning some high-placed bridges. A 3 star general whose life he'd once saved no longer returned his calls.

The only balance was that his work with Sammy had garnered him a lot of contacts that she had picked up through the years. Especially nice was a few fresh faces in the Pentagon as well as a face on the President's cabinet. When he mentioned the word _Pentagon_, she flinched and involuntarily touched one of her legs. He apologized and they just sat there for awhile in silence.

He soon realized she'd fallen asleep and he gently picked her up and took her to the guest room. After tucking her in, he retrieved her powered wheelchair. He tried walking beside it as he controlled it while standing but after running himself over nearly half a dozen times in the first 20 feet, he changed tactics. He hadn't even gotten all the way through the kitchen when he gave up and decided instead to sit in the device to drive it. Controlling it the way it was designed to be was much easier for him. He swallowed his pride and rode in the custom-formed seat all the way to the foot of the bed where Jo's sleeping form lay.

Hawke then returned to the living room and considered viewing the video. He reread the document and went to his bedroom and changed to his swimming trunks, grabbing a towel on his return yet again to the living room.

He didn't know what was on the DVD but something about it was sitting wrong in his gut.

He reached the door to go take his swim, but realized that putting it off was only delaying the inevitable.

Simply put he was acting childish.

Hawke tossed the towel onto the the couch and slapped the DVD into the player and turned on the TV. He was glad he was siting down on the couch as he pressed play as he got the shock of his life less than a minute into the video!

His thumb stabbed the PAUSE button on the remote as he stared at the figure on the screen. It had been years since he'd seen the man and all indications were that he was now dead.

The time code was sourced only a couple days ago and there was an uninterrupted digital signature code tracking along the top.

The video was genuine and the man's eyes and the movement of his mouth was unmistakable. Suddenly Hawke felt an urge and made a beeline for the bathroom where he threw up. Several times.

On his way back to the video, he got a glass of water and put plenty of ice in it. He started the video over and watched it all the way through. He crunched the ice to keep his stomach settled this time through.

As much as the beginning had sent his stomach reeling, the contents of the video sent his mind reeling. It left as many questions as it did answers.

It also left him with a major decision to make. He thought that Newman's document had challenging ramifications, that was mundane compared to this.

He sighed heavily and wished he had something stronger to drink right now. Hawke stared at the ceiling and just breathed for a few moments. He knew what his answer was going to be but felt for some reason that he needed to justify it to himself.

The video was only 7:43 minutes long. He watched it again, this time in super slow-motion to see if there were any hidden frames.

There were none.

The message was straightforward as was the request. He ejected the disc and dropped it back into the case. He stuck his sidearm into the waist of his trunks and slung his towel over his shoulder. He grabbed a plastic bag out of a cabinet, checked its contents, and brought that along as well. He went out to the end of the dock next to the cabin and dropped the towel and bag.

He stretched his limbs for a few minutes and then dove in. His body sliced beneath the surface and continued underwater until he was a full third of the way across the lake before he broke the surface and gulped in air as he continued. He continued toward the far shore and then returned to the dock.

The gun in his waistband was a distraction, but a necessary one. He then dove for the bottom and grabbed the box he found there. It had been St John's idea to stow several caches of survival equipment scattered throughout the property. He pulled himself up onto the dock and then opened the box. He pulled out some ziploc bags containing a spare pistol, ammunition clips, flashlight, and some other essentials. He replaced these with ones from the bag. He then returned the box to its hiding place. He did several more laps of the lake as he continued to mull over the events of the evening.

If the forthcoming events transpired as planned, quite a few lives were going to be affected–least of all his.


	33. Chapter 33

They were still 5 miles from the meeting site when the expected ambush happened. The SUV in the lead was split in half by explosives in the roadway. Two dark blue Hummers approached at angles to the road. Both were firing heavy machine guns. One of them scored several hits on the limo before the white Church Consulting Hummer intersected the rounds and drove toward the attackers while the gunner returned fire with a SAW.

With a howling roar, the SKYSHARK appeared over the horizon and shredded the closer Hummer with the 20mm cannon. The further vehicle disappeared in a ball of flame as 3 grenades from the 40mm launcher slammed into it. RANGER commented,

"The limo's crippled. What do you have on the scope St John?" The voice from behind him intoned,

"Reading clear but I've got a pressure wave on the audio spectrographic analysis. Its coming from the direction of the meet location. I'm also reading a two-stage compression wave approaching us from that direction."

"Which means that we likely have two incoming attackers. Bring full combat systems on-line." RANGER switched on the comlink and advised,

"Nicko, you and KC get Archangel ready for us to exfiltrate. We'll cover your retreat with the Hummers." KC acknowledged since Santini had gone to check the damaged Hummers.

A moment later, the two helicopters appeared over the crest of a nearby hill and immediately opened fire on SKYSHARK. The spread of rockets screamed toward the Hawke brothers and RANGER engaged the impellers. BISHOP popped out flares which took out many of the rockets as SKYSHARK flew between the two enemy helicopters. The two were of a design similar to the Apache with the same dark blue color as the Hummers. The first heli kept pursuing them with main gun blazing. The second pulled up and turned around. It was a tactically sound move. RANGER was supposed to go after the closer heli which was attacking him but that would put him in the line of fire of the other. Still riding the impellers, RANGER targeted the first heli's cannon with his own and then pulled up hard. The first's pilot recovered quickly and watched as the SKYSHARK flew nearly straight upward. He fired the .30 cal minigun at the nose of the heli above him as it dove to meet him. Right as heli 2 fired a missile at SKYSHARK, RANGER cut the impellers and kicked the rudders into a gut-wrenching hard 180º turn. He cut in the impellers again and made a beeline for heli 1 below him which was now technically 'in front' of him due to the expertly committed maneuver.

With 99 out of 100 pilots, this would have been an impossible maneuver as it would likely shear off the main rotor and leave the pilot all but disoriented and the computerized avionics scrambled to the point of crashing. Fortunately RANGER had mastered the _Hammerhand_ stall while flying the original AIRWOLF all those years ago.

The missile was only a second away and heli 1 was lining them up for another shot when RANGER abruptly fishtailed and hauled the collective over and back then pulled up on the cyclic as he twisted the handle to give him an extra burst of power. This had the net effect of heli 1 and SKYSHARK being literally nose-to-nose but upside-down to each other for a split-second before they passed belly to belly. It also had the result of heli 2's missile impacting squarely on the cockpit of heli 1. As his brother righted the SKYSHARK, BISHOP announced,

"Rotary inbound, 175 by 50. Registering continuing impacts by 30 cal rounds on aft panel." When his helmet's display reverse-angle view showed that heli 2 was directly behind them, RANGER whipped SKYSHARK around to face it while reversing course in one smooth motion so that they were now flying backwards. He tried to activate an air-intercept missile but the auto-targeting system would not lock at point-blank range. He toggled to manual targeting and the display switched from green to red. He fired, missing on purpose. The instant the missile cleared the tail rotor of heli 2, RANGER ordered,

"Detonate!" BISHOP was only a heartbeat behind as he was expecting something like this from his brother. The resulting explosion nearly sent the enemy helicopter careening into the ground but the pilot somehow recovered and quickly maneuvered away. This gave RANGER the opening he was looking for as he kicked in the impellers once again so that he could fire off another short burst with the 20mm cannon. The rounds hit their mark and heli 2 erupted. BISHOP remarked,

"String, dear brother, I don't know whether to salute you for that bit of fancy flying or to remind you of what exactly I had for lunch yesterday! Do we have any Promethazine anti-nausea pills in the first-aid kit on this thing?" The brothers shared a laugh at this.

The scope was completely clear so they set down at Archangel's request. He told them that their contact was still on the way and had just called him to confirm. The contact was concerned about the attack and indicated that their escort would not be using armed aircraft. Santini quipped,

"For some reason, the contact's _assurance_ just does not fill me with that warn, fuzzy feeling of confidence." Stringfellow began to walk toward Archangel who was seated in the back of the white Hummer. He was halfway there when he realized that St John was no longer next to him. He called out to his brother,

"We should probably maintain cover for Michael Archangel, don't you think?" St John shrugged,

"Don't get your shorts in a twist, Stringy. I want to check out the remote control system that Nicko found in these blue Hummers. Unless you want to pull rank on me...oh that's right, you can't!" St John and Nicko hi-fived each other and continued toward the swiss-cheesed SUV. Stringfellow faced Archangel and sighed,

"I love him dearly and he's the best pilot I know. Unfortunately sometimes he can also be the biggest pain this world has ever seen." Archangel laughed,

"Agreed. But a pilot is only as good a his trainer and it is a testimony to his early work that you both excel in your own unique ways. By the same token that he'll never be the pilot you are, you'll never be the pilot he is. I saw some pretty amazing things when we were overseas on the training assignment." Stringfellow nodded,

"I saw the video feeds and sensor animations. I'm impressed by the entire project. Sometimes a driver is only as good as the vehicle he's given. There is also the fact that the best vehicle makes for the ultimate tool in the hand of a truly skilled pilot. Because of that, there is simply no comparing the work I did with AIRWOLF with the work he's doing with my SKYSHARK. I like the SKYSHARK and she makes for a great tool in this war." Archangel commented,

"But you are always insisting that this war is not the same kind as the one we fought. Are you trying to tell me that a different kind of war needs a different kind of warrior?" Hawke grinned as he replied,

"Michael you've known me too long and too well. I like the work that we are doing now but I miss the work we used to do. The gun is a much cruder weapon than the mind. Even though I'm certainly more impulsive than my brother, he is certainly a better soldier than I'll ever be since he is the better people person which makes him the better leader." Archangel looked over to where Santini was pointing out something to St John inside the blue vehicle and grinned,

"Have you ever thought of telling him this? He has said much the same thing to me about you. How he envies the work you accomplished in AIRWOLF and that he hopes he can someday match that with the tools you have given him courtesy of the SKYSHARK. He knows he was acting under orders while in Vietnam but a part of him regrets not being able to work with you back then. Newman had given him multiple opportunities to leave the operation but he was too dedicated to his work to leave at a point where it was not completed to his satisfaction." Hawke followed his friend's gaze and watched as his brother was practically swallowed up to his knees as he leaned under the dashboard to look at the setup.

He smiled to himself as the gentle breeze carried the remnants of a shared laugh between the two men in the blue Hummer.

"So if Jo-jo wasn't your adopted sister, who would you be more inclined to ask out to a nice dinner?" St John laughed in frustration as the line of questioning was going in circles. Santini chuckled his reply,

"Well I distinctly recall sharing a bowl of oatmeal with Jo-jo when we were both a few years shy of 10 years old. As far as Lt Col Carter is concerned, back when she was a Major we did share dinner. We were on assignment together and it was a beef stew MRE." St John finally shook his head in resignation as he pulled his arms from under the dashboard to show that he found the remote system's control interface. While handing it to Santini, he changed the subject,

"Once Archangel has met with his contact we should get out of here. If you like, you and KC can drive SKYSHARK home. I enjoy riding with String but I think disobeying an order in order to hang out with you while on duty just crossed a line." Santini shrugged,

"I wouldn't worry about it. You both are two different versions of a weapon designed for the same ammo. I think of you as more of a .50 cal machine gun while he's more like a .50 cal sniper rifle. I wouldn't use them both for the same mission but they certainly are both effective weapons in the hands of an experienced user." They looked over to where his brother was standing next to the Hummer only a couple feet from the heavy machine gun mounted atop it. St John started to make an ironic comment about the proximity of the machine gun and the comparison his friend had just made when a sudden gunshot split the stillness. The gunner for the vehicle flipped over backward and the weapon spun around wildly.

Four SUVs suddenly appeared from the same direction as the helicopters had. They were all driving top speed and moving too fast for anyone to react properly.

Once again KC proved to be the exception to the rule. After telling Jo to keep her position, he bolted from the Hummer limo which was at the back of the caravan. During his mad dash, he kept the Hummer that Hawke and Santini were next to between himself and the approaching SUVs.

The commando who had been knocked over got to his feet and stood next to Stringfellow, weapon at the ready. A Huey landed behind the SUVs. About 30 commandos poured out of the vehicles and another Huey landed in front of the white Hummer Archangel was now climbing out of. Stringfellow and Coldsmith-Briggs approached the helicopter but stopped short as several guns were pointed at them. A voice from inside the Huey called out,

"I take it you were expecting someone? Long time no see Michael. Your contact should be here soon but I have some business to attend to first. First do me a favor by relieving yourselves of your weapons." One of the commandos near KC, Santini, and St John ordered,

"You heard him, lose the hardware!" KC pointed his weapon at the speaker and tilted his head toward St John,

"Boss its your call. Whatever you decide I'll back your play." Before Hawke could reply, the commando spoke into the mike of his earpiece,

"The boy seems to think that the brother is in charge and won't surrender to us. Advise." Hawke looked at the commando and replied to KC drily,

"It seems that our playmates want to ask their daddy for permission to use their toys. I think I'll..." Santini was facing away from Hawke and KC was between them forming a type of loose triangle. So neither saw what happened when they heard a metallic POP and saw a flash of light. St John gasped and collapsed to the ground! The lead commando continued, "He's fine for now but he won't be if you don't lose the hardware! Our boss has some business to conduct with yours so it will go much smoother if you will just see it our way." Santini smiled his reply,

"Well if it is just business then we can keep staring at each other. I'm more than willing to make it a mutual effort if you want to lower yours as well. I can assure you that my friend here is at least as good as you are and if someone starts something he'll be sure to ruin your weekend before he goes down." The commando looked incredulous for a moment and then decided that a compromise just might be in order. He lowered his weapon slightly and angled it across his body. As Santini did likewise, KC reached down and confirmed that Hawke did indeed still have a pulse. The commando informed them,

"Don't worry, he's only been hit with a 'pellet' and one hit only incapacitates or neutralizes. Its a second or third shot which does permanent damage." KC and Santini shared a look which spoke volumes;

_a second or third shot is needed to cause permanent damage…?!_

Over at the Huey, Archangel was using every technique possible to figure out the identity of the man inside the Iroquois helicopter but was getting nowhere fast. He was also trying to delay as long as possible so that perhaps his contact's people could help them but the man he was talking with must have realized this as he interrupted the line of small talk. He suddenly addressed Stringfellow,

"Mr Hawke, if you would please come with me. My business is with you. My men are prepared to take you by force if you do not comply." Hawke replied,

"Now look mister, I don't know what you think you are trying to accomplish. If you came looking for trouble you got it. I never enter into a business deal with anyone unless I know what the transaction is on both ends of the deal."

"That is indeed unfortunate, Director Hawke. Do I need to prove how serious I am about this matter by gunning down my good friend Administrator Coldsmith-Briggs to prove my sincerity?" The shadowy figure demanded with an easy tone. Archangel opened his mouth to say something but Hawke cut him off,

"Well I guess that I get to prove that I am a _true_ friend rather than just a _good_ friend by being the one who shows more concern for his friend's welfare. Petty threats are unnecessary and a sure sign of a weak hand. But I guess you figure that a weak hand backed by excessive firepower makes for moral superiority. As a man of peace I challenge that assertion. Unfortunately you have me at a tactical disadvantage so it seems I have no choice but to comply." Archangel began to protest as Hawke stepped into the Huey but realized it was futile as the helicopter's engine began to power up. The commandos who had him surrounded retreated into the Huey and a moment later it ascended into the air and sped away.

Archangel lowered his hands and turned to face where KC and Santini were standing, still surrounded. He heard a sound like rushing water and saw what looked like a dust storm. He turned in the direction of the customized Hummer which had been designed as a limousine for Jo Santini and got the surprise of his life. SKYSHARK was in the air and slowly moving forward! As his eye widened in amazement, the helicopter paused and slowly turned slightly as if making a slight correction. His staring finally caught everyone else's attention as the group of commandos suddenly stopped in their evacuation.

KC looked up at SKYSHARK and seemed to strain his eyes even though it was well-known that he had much better than 20/20 vision and Archangel suspected that he had the same genetic therapy as Santini had. KC then looked over to the Hummer...actually it appeared as though he was looking past it. Santini followed KC's gaze and spotted the wheelchair the instant before his colleague called out a warning in a language that he doubted anyone else would understand.

To Coldsmith-Briggs, it almost as if the young commando had belted out the word _TREE! _

KC dove for the dirt and heard a thud coming from the location of his former commander.

Archangel watched as a torrent of autofire blazed forth from the SKYSHARK's .30 cal minigun and tore through the crowd of commandos which had been surrounding them. Archangel was almost impressed by the amount of carnage in such a short amount of time.

Santini estimated it was just a quick trigger pull which unleashed a short burst despite the amount of firepower.

For his part, KC was simply pleased that the pilot was on _his _side.

A moment later, the machine gun atop one of the blue Hummers opened fire on SKYSHARK. Santini and KC went into action and opened fire on the gunner as they made their way toward the vehicle on the run.

The fire coming from SKYSHARK raked through the handful of commandos near the Hummer. The rain of lead then focused on the Hummer itself. Despite nearly facing the vehicle head-on, the impact of the autofire sent the vehicle airborne to come to a rest in a flaming heap on its roof. When the weapon ceased firing, SKYSHARK seemed to shudder. The helicopter continued to shudder as it lowered toward the ground.

Archangel watched as SKYSHARK landed. To him the landing seemed a bit rough. Santini and KC continued their trek toward the other Huey, firing as they progressed. After they cleared the Huey, the two checked their weapons and reloaded them. They joined Archangel next to St John's still form. Santini checked his unconscious friend and found what looked like a dark blue BB stuck to the chest of his blue-grey flight suit. Caitlin emerged from the passenger seat of the Hummer and joined them standing over her husband. Archangel ordered,

"Get to SKYSHARK. Check on Jo and see if there's any way we can pursue the Iroquois that abducted String." The two men stood to comply but a Blackhawk appeared over the horizon. A moment later, it was landing. A handful of commandos jumped out.

The Blackhawk bore the unmistakable logo of LaFiamma Inc and Archangel stepped forward while telling Santini and KC that this was his contact. A raven-haired exotic looking female stepped out of the helicopter and glanced at the dead bodies. She then looked at Coldsmith-Briggs and said,

"Well Michael, I can see you've been busy." He replied nonchalantly,

"Indeed I have, Miss LaFiamma. But I only brought a minimum contingent as promised. Where is the package?" LaFiamma smiled humorlessly and replied,

"Of course to business. Speaking of which, one of my terms was the presence of Stringfellow Hawke. Where is he?" Archangel frowned and replied,

"I wish I knew. We were intercepted by an attack force which has abducted him." Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. She stepped forward past her guards to confront Archangel and then spotted St John in the familiar flight suit. She then gestured to where he was starting to recover and gestured with a hand. Coldsmith-Briggs said,

"His brother, St John who was incapacitated in the attack."

"Who attacked you? What did they want?" LaFiamma demanded with a scowl deepening her countenance. With her brows tightening, she was beginning to take on an almost evil look. He shrugged and shook his head as he started,

"I have no idea, they wouldn't tell…" She nearly screamed in her rising fury,

"Michael don't you _dare_ trifle with me! I have put a lot of effort into seeing the look on his face when I destroy his world just like he did mine! I will have my vengeance for what he did to my family! Nobody will stand in my way, not even you. I know all the methods you have at your disposal and I will not be denied by your clever parlor tricks, distractions, or double-talk. My father was murdered while defenseless and alone at the hands of a man who was rewarded with the use of my father's own tools to continue acting as a pawn of the very people who betrayed my father." Archangel's jaw dropped as he began to put the pieces together,

"Your father? Wait… The pilot who trained him had the callsign FLAME and it was rumored he married her. Your first initial is D and it was rumored he had a daughter which he named after his wife who died in childbirth, Dorothea LaFiamma. You named your company after your mother. Your real name is Dorothea Moffat which makes you Charles Moffat's daughter!" She almost grinned as she sneered,

"Very clever Michael! This simply means that you'd better find him before I do. I simply guarantee that if I find him I will kill him no questions asked." She gestured toward SKYSHARK and snarled, "The ironic thing is that you will be providing me the weapon with which to do it." She nodded to one of her guards who turned to stride toward the helicopter.

It was a mistake.

He should have kept his attention on Santini as he started to walk backward for a few steps first. Santini whipped into action. He grabbed the barrel of the man's weapon and smashed an elbow into his gut, then he shifted his center of balance to swing his fist upwards and punched upwards. He then released both hands and used his momentum to spin the leg which was behind the guard into a vicious inside roundhouse kick. The guard flipped into a midair backwards somersault and landed face-down. Similarly, KC responded too fast for anyone to react or for Archangel to follow. LaFiamma/Moffat tried to slap Archangel, but he managed to catch the blow before it landed. He grinned,

"Now now, little Missy. Play nice." She broke away and groaned,

"It is so hard to find good help these days! Mind you Michael, this not the end. It is merely a delay of the inevitable. I will _not_ be denied!" She glared to where St John was just getting to his unsteady feet and snarled,

"Perhaps I'll get my start by dealing with the brother. Maybe that will bring him out of whatever hole he has dug himself into."

Caitlin stormed forward from standing next to her husband to standing between Dorothea and Archangel where she stated matter-of-factly,

"You will do no such thing! I don't know who you are and I honestly don't care! Your pursuit of some childish vendetta…" She never finished the thought as LaFiamma/Moffat used the hand which had tried to slap Goldsmith-Briggs and now backhanded the woman who had the unmitigated temerity to confront her. Blood sprayed forth from Caitlin Hawke's upper lip and nose but that didn't stop her from burying a fist into her attacker's gut.

This doubled Dorothea over.

The guards who had been standing by the Blackhawk now moved to confront Santini, KC, and St John as the latter raised his weapon to aim toward their boss. Despite feeling dazed and confused, St John grinned with a confidence he wasn't exactly feeling,

"Gentlemen, before we commence killing each other, let's let the ladies conclude their business." One of the guards concurred,

"The disadvantages of mutually assured destruction are indeed a deterrent to action in this case."

The ensuing fight between the two women was furious yet brief. Caitlin had years of experience from being taught the department's self-defense procedures while a patrol officer. She had also been a volunteer assistant instructor for a martial arts studio. Dorothea however, had an explosive determination and an adrenaline-driven strength from a lifetime of vengeance.

Caitlin ably defended herself with finesse and practiced moves while Dorothea attacked with a maddening flurry of clawing, scratching, slapping and hitting.

The intensity of the attacks actually backed Caitlin up a couple of steps. She soon tired of this when her opponent dug her fingernails into Caitlin's cheek and dragged them across the skin, raking parallel furrows into the flesh. LaFiamma/Moffat cackled evilly,

"First blood goes to me in this catfight!" Hawke shook her head in amazement and sighed,

"Lady you are so full of crap perhaps someone should introduce you to a good sandbox as part of this so-called catfight" With that, she whirled herself around into a flying spinning roundhouse kick.

Archangel gasped as the ascending foot came within inches of his groin when Caitlin literally went airborne.

Her kick connected solidly and her target spun around and landed on her face in the dirt. LaFiamma/Moffat picked herself up and dusted herself off. She smiled with a wicked glint in her eyes as she addressed Caitlin,

"Nicely done, Mrs Hawke. I'm almost impressed. If it weren't for the fact that I'm trying to destroy your family, I'd offer you a job!" Caitlin wiped the blood from her cheek and started to reply but her antagonist would have none of it. Dorothea spun on her heel to face the helicopter which bore the fiery blazon of her Private Military Corporation and made a quick gesture for her guards to withdraw. She quickly made her way back to the Blackhawk which flew off.

Under Archangel's instruction, Jo and St John were placed into the back of the limo. Santini and KC provided cover for the caravan on the return trip, with KC not bothering to hide his enthusiasm at piloting SKYSHARK.


	34. Chapter 34

This chapter is a reboot of the previous chapter. While writing the previous chapter on my Palm Pilot, I decided on a whim to rewrite it. I thought it would be interesting to show Jo's perspective. As a differently-abled person she would be largely ignored by most writers. I think it adds a dramatic tone to the overall story and fleshes out the Jo Santini character in particular. It also helps to set up some future events and adds a unique plot twist/device.

* * *

"Well like Cait said _sometimes it falls to a woman to help a man get things right_ but I hate it when both sides of the equation wind up in my family." Jo Santini unlocked the fasteners to the clips which held the powerchair in its place within the customized Hummer limo. Usually someone opened the door so that she could turn the chair around before entering the lift platform. Inside the limo, there were no less than 10 control panels for the lift and the rear doors scattered throughout the vehicle. As silently as she could, she manually unlocked the rear doors and swung them open.

There was a whining grind which sounded to her implant as though it was like the sound of jet taking off but could actually barely be hard outside the vehicle. Despite this knowledge, Jo began to sweat as the platform was swung forward by the mechanical arms. It got worse as the platform left the vehicle and got out into the open. The motor now had to work harder due to the increased weight and the increased sound was no longer contained within the vehicle. It was well over a minute later when things came to a halt.

Jo expected to be surrounded at any moment by grey-clad men toting automatic weapons. She lifted the restraining bar out of the way and it was almost locked into position when it slipped. There was a sharp metallic _SNAP_ as it fell back into its lower housing.

Without thinking she lifted it again, this time using both hands. Jo noted the impression the bar had left in the housing's cushion and realized her implant had sent her a signal she'd misinterpreted.

She eased the chair forward and craned her neck to see where the fight had been going on. There were bodies scattered all over but it seemed as though her family was still alive as there was a small cluster of men about 50 feet away from where two white-clad figures were standing next to the Huey. Nobody was moving so they obviously hadn't heard anything. She murmured to herself,

"Knowing them, they are probably insisting on having a testosterone contest right now. If they weren't family, they'd be the most annoying people on the face of the planet. But fortunately that's what makes me all the more fascinated by them." She giggled to herself as she set the chair for its fastest setting and headed for SKYSHARK.

The only problem was that the fastest setting was high torque and low power. This meant that as soon as she hit the softer dirt, roughly halfway to SKYSHARK, she got stuck.

Changing settings only seemed to make it worse.

She groaned in frustration and unfastened her seatbelt. She was suddenly glad she'd worn the pantsuit rather than the skirt today. She lowered herself to the ground and began to drag her body along. Within minutes, her pants were filthy and full of holes.

Her doctor had told her years ago that she had several strands of tissue which were connected and could give false signals from time-to-time. Sometimes this meant that she could wiggle the toes of her left foot or if something struck her legs, they would itch for hours.

She kept dragging.

She kept telling herself that it looked farther than it was. As much as she wanted to, didn't dare look to where the action was or back to her wheelchair.

She kept dragging.

Her left leg felt like it was on fire but there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Except give up.

She kept dragging.

The pain just above her L2 vertebra was excruciating. Wiping away the tears from her eyes to see her destination better resulted in the dirt on her face becoming smeared. She cried,

"Oh Jesus, what I would give for some Vicodin right now!"

She kept dragging.

Just as she began to think that it couldn't get any worse, Jo started to feel a spasm near her damaged T10 vertebra. It had taken her surgeon 15 surgeries to get the conduction test to where he felt comfortable with her eating her favorite foods again. She had hated the medications almost as much as the brace that she had had to use to be able to eat at all.

Fortunately it had been hours since she'd eaten so she doubted the spasms would cause her to gag but she still tasted bile at the back of her throat.

She kept dragging.

A slight shift in the wind brought a sharp sound her direction. Her implant could not give her enough information for her to determine what it was and she didn't dare to turn her head that direction.

The phantom pain was in both legs now and it felt like someone was pounding thousands of nails which had been soaked in acid and set on fire.

She wanted to scream in agony.

Another spasm in her middle back caused her abdominal muscles to cramp and she involuntarily lifted her head. In surprise she gasped,

"Only a few feet more!" as SKYSHARK loomed large in her view all of a sudden. Due to the late hour, the helicopter's shadow made it appear as though it was much farther away.

Only a few feet more. Only a few feet more.

She kept dragging.

Foot by agonizing foot.

In the back of her mind, a small part of her wanted to suddenly curse the 9-11 terrorists who had done this to her. She had lost her best friend in the world that day as Merella had been as much a sister as a mentor to her.

Jo tried to choke back the emotions which were beginning to overwhelm her but the grit and dust in her throat would not allow it. She was already in tears from the intense pain but the wash of anguish was almost a respite since it provided a slight distraction from her current situation.

Only a few feet more.

She vividly remembered that day when her world had gone silent. She had apologized to Archangel for not doing more to help the woman he cared for. He'd tried to smile and say it as OK (as he'd written on the pad of paper on the stand next to her bed) but tears welled up in his eyes and he'd kissed her forehead. It had been a defining moment for her personally and professionally.

She kept dragging.

The persistence which had kept her focused back then was what kept her going now. Despite the surgeries and setbacks which came from the lifetime's use of experiencing a sense which was now gone and the loss of use of two limbs, she had achieved a remarkable set of goals.

She kept dragging.

And now this goal felt like it was the grandest achievement ever. She nearly collapsed with relief as she reached out and touched the leading edge of the landing skid. She rolled sideways so that she could interlock her fingers around the skid. Through the tears and pain she gasped,

"Well Lord, Rebecca St James put it quite succinctly in her song _God Help Me_. That is an understatement right now." Since that fateful day, she'd done thousands of pull-ups and pushups. In an effort to avoid crying out from the pain, she practically ground her back teeth into chalk dust as she first pulled and then pushed herself forward against the skid. She was now within arms' reach of the step on the support strut and that helped her to reach the latch. It took a bit of sleight-of-hand but she managed to push up with one hand and twist and pull with the other at the same time. She managed to contort her wrist into a turn that wasn't exactly natural as she held onto the door long enough for the motion to drop her awkwardly into the pilot's seat. She half laughed, half cried as she looked at the trail of blood her legs had left and she commented,

"Hallelujah. Samson, eat your heart out!" As she realized that only part of the task was completed and she turned around to face the Weapons Technician's station, she hazarded a look at her legs. The front of what was left of the once-white slacks was nearly black. The pants were shredded below the front pockets and her legs looked like raw hamburger which had been cooked in sections.

Jo grabbed the 'sissy handles' and hauled herself over the console behind her. She then did a kind of awkward somersault to land in the chair. Although the term _landing_ was a relative term for the maneuver she'd just performed. She was almost face first into the cushion but laying on her left arm. She rolled over and sat up. Tears were now streaking down her face not just from the overwhelming pain but also with the grim realization after seeing the damage to her useless legs.

_God, they're going to have to amputate my legs after this, they may be useless but they are __**still**__ mine!!_

Since she'd helped design the SKYSHARK's avionics, she had some idea of what she was doing. Unfortunately, the production design was somewhat different than what she had originally worked on. While the panels were similar, their layout was less so. It took her a moment to find what she was looking for.

She managed to login and activate the voice recognition system. She hoped her voice was clear enough to access the system since the audio feedback system was useless to her.

Fortunately it worked.

She could feel there was some sort of feedback as she entered her Church Consulting employee ID. She typed into the system that she needed printed video text interface directed into the IHADSS closed-caption system and to have the audio intercom fed into the voice and speech recognition and transposition system. Suddenly the helmet marked RANGER lit up and Jo put it on. In front of her eyes was a question,

_User ID referent on file. Please confirm identity as Supervisory Agent Josephenia 'JAZZY' Santini?_ Her pulse quickened as JAZZY was her old callsign and the misspelling of her first name was from when the FIRM had left off the last two letters. With a gasp, she replied,

"Confirmed. Is this AIRWOLF?" There was a pause and the text interface responded,

_Proper name referent is non-sequitur. AIRWOLF is project name for AI user interface while under development by S Hawke, Special Projects Division, et al. Do you wish to segregate user access to SKYSHARK controls for further development of AIRWOLF UI?_

"No I wish to employ interface as command utility to control SKYSHARK. Unit 01's crew of Director Hawke and Colonel Hawke have been captured. For confirmation, scan area ahead for IFF transponders." The computer paused for what seemed like an eternity but was closer to less than half a minute. She desperately wanted to massage away the phantom pain from her bloodied legs but feared that would do more harm than good. She also needed her hands ready to control SKYSHARK in case this worked.

Like most Sign Language users, she already had a tendency toward carpal tunnel syndrome and she was sure this had only served to make things worse. Her palms and fingers had been rubbed raw and the calluses from years of aviation maintenance had been scraped off by the abrasivness of the dirt.

_Understood. Facts available confirm related details. Initiating preflight sequence. Do you wish to initiate full combat and stealth modes as part of startup process?_

"Yes please. Lockout Impeller system as user is not wearing a pressure suit. Lock manual rudder pedals as I don't have use of my legs. Yaw control is under voice command."

_Impeller lockout is confirmed. Rudder control transfer not recommended as voice input for active vehicular control is impractical and simulations indicate it is crude enough to be dangerous._

Whether from the effort of moving back into the front seat or from the frustration of explaining everything to the AI or from the fact that her own muscles were at the limit of what they could provide in this superhuman endeavor and the cramping muscles were beginning to take a real physical effort to overcome.

_In my 30s and I'm already old and creaky…_

The absurdness of the thought caused her to laugh and that brought on a fresh round of tears which threatened to fog up the anti-fog coating of the IHADSS. Her stiffening muscles made it all but impossible to extend her reach as far as she'd like. It was only a couple feet but the unique contortions made it nearly as unbearable as dragging her useless legs across the ground. Once she was back in the pilot's seat, she paused to catch her breath and to explain to the AI the reason for her request,

"Rudder lock is necessary due to lumbar vertebral injury resulting in leg paralysis of user." Another pause. _Please?_

_Confirmed._ After she strapped herself into the pilot's seat, she wrapped her hands around the familiar controls and requested,

"I don't suppose that while we have this rapport established you can update my personal file? There wasn't enough space for a name longer than 10 characters when I filled out the forms and so the 'n-a' was dropped from the end of my name. Also, my old _nickname_ was 'Jazzy' while my _callsign_ is 'APPLE' now." She was simply making conversation while she waited for all the gauges to read green. There seemed to be no response to her request. Jo glanced to where the door had closed itself and saw the track of blood she'd left as she'd maneuvered about the cabin.

_File annotated per request._ This surprised her and she was about to say _thank you_ when the board in front of her went all green. The only weapon she felt comfortable using was the .30 caliber chin-mount M-134 minigun but she was not in a position to use it and have a clear shot. She raised SKYSHARK up to a height of about 5 Meters.

Pretty soon, stealth mode or not, they'd take notice of her. The Huey on the other side of the vehicles suddenly ascended and flew away. Jo saw Archangel lower his hands and turn partway from where he had his back to her to where he was now in profile. As she continued to ease forward, he was the first to see her as he suddenly turned his head and his eye flew open wide. Jo ordered,

"SKYSHARK rotate 10º counterclockwise"

_Adjusting heading to 80º East-Northeast_ Now she got more attention as she slid forward. The odds were easily 5-to-1 against her family as she approached. Everyone was equally confused as to the presence of the helicopter. KC was the first to catch on as he spotted her wheelchair and shouted something as he dove for the ground.

She took that as her cue to open fire. A hailstorm of lead filled the air and ripped through at least a dozen grey-clad commandos in an instant. Her display indicated she had fired 57 rounds in that one short trigger pull.

SKYSHARK shuddered as the gunner from a blue Hummer returned fire but stopped as abruptly when KC and her brother charged toward him on the run.

With a tilt of her head, Jo swept the minigun toward the Hummer where another half dozen commandos were trying to set up a defensive position. She fired in short bursts and then concentrated her fire on the vehicle and pulled the trigger for a long two-count,

"One, one-thousand… Two, one-thousand…" Even though she was facing the front of the vehicle at an angle, it flipped and spun before it landed upside-down aflame.

Jo wanted to continue but she realized that physically she just could not. A tiny well of panic began to grow as her arms started to shake. Even worse, her field of vision began to swim at the edges.

_Sure signs of dehydration and blood loss_. As gently as she could in her condition, she set SKYSHARK down. KC and Nicky continued to shoot their way toward the Huey and Archangel turned to face her.

Her last memory before she lost consciousness was trying to raise her hand to wave at Archangel and then spotting St John's still form.


	35. Chapter 35

Jo was immediately aware that someone had entered the room. Her head felt 20 feet thick but the medications which had put her to sleep were quickly wearing off.

A disembodied voice told her to blink hard since her eyes had been cleared with solution and that was why everything looked cloudy. Each spoken word was a shockwave in her brain. It was similar to the effect used for the voice of God in cheesy old time movies. Instinct told her that someone was using the direct-connect _line in_ jack for her implant to speak to her.

How annoying!

Whoever it was, they weren't trained in its use. It was designed for the user to speak evenly with the microphone about 6 inches away from the mouth―not to shout with the microphone on the user's lips!

She blinked until she could see and sure enough, a young nurse was wearing a goofy grin and the microphone was almost touching her teeth.

Jo raised her hand to try and remove the connector but found her hands were wrapped in bandages. The connector was two tiny magnets with a notch between them so it could not be simply knocked off. A familiar strong hand entered her view and removed the device for her. She nodded and tried to say,

"Thank you." But her voice would not respond as her throat was still raw. What came out was more of a croak or grunt. Jo felt the bed shake slightly as point of view shifted. This meant the top of the bed was elevating. She turned her head ever so slightly to see who was at the controls. She found her self looking into the face of Michael Coldsmith-Briggs from a distance of about 1 foot.

Jo stared into his eye for a timeless moment. That beautiful, hazel eye. She could stare into it forever!

With a free hand, he swept the hair from her face and lifted a cup for her to drink from. She took a sip through the straw and sighed as the refreshing feel washed all the way down to her stomach. She sighed in contentment. Archangel leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

_Uh Michael, my lips are 3 inches lower..._

The thought caused her to giggle and she covered it by coughing gently. A look of concern flashed across his face and her situation flooded back in detail. She felt panic as Archangel inadvertently glanced to the bottom of the bed.

_OH GOD NO!! MY LEGS?!_

Afraid to even consider the question, she slowly whispered as ears welled up in her eyes,

"Please… My legs… Are they still… There?" He looked at her and nodded. She looked at the two piles of bandages and sighed in relief. Once she allowed herself to relax, the memories flooded back. Her lower lip quivered as she queried,

"How many people did I kill?" He tried to evade the question by replying,

"We haven't had a chance to fully assess…" She shook her head and began to weep,

"Come on Michael! I know your team is better than that! I don't want the bullet-by-bullet accounting. I just want to know in my heart how to…" Coldsmith-Briggs held up a hand in surrender and smiled tightly,

"Our best guess is 37. That includes 9 in and around the vehicle which was destroyed. You saved a lot of lives though."

"But I was unable to prevent String's abduction."

At that moment a familiar figure entered the room. His dark expression and stiff walk as well as the rest of his body language spoke volumes. St John Hawke came to a stop near the foot of Jo's bed and spoke in a tone which was even yet demanding. Each word was spoken as its own sentence.

"Where. Is. My. Brother?!"

There was an incredible stillness as Archangel paused to choose the right words to somehow placate the man confronting him. A sudden thought went through Jo's mind as she watched the two men.

_What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Something's gonna give and in the least pleasant way possible for all concerned!_

Coldsmith-Briggs opened his mouth to respond and she saw Hawke's fingers twitch.

_Uh oh; this can't be good…_

Halfway expecting the situation to come to blows, Santini surreptitiously checked to see how thorough the medical team had been when they had removed anything extra she had been wearing in order to treat her. She was surprised yet relieved to find that her white suitjacket had not been removed. This fact left her with a tool of last resort should she need it.

Michael's shoulders twitched but it was obvious he made an effort not to shrug as he answered easily,

"I don't know." Unfortunately, this wasn't good enough for St John in order to defuse the near-palpable tension which pervaded every inch of the room.

"You were only a few feet from him when it all took place." St John insisted heatedly. Archangel replied evenly,

"It was not my operation so I have no idea what happened." St John's voice lowered to a dangerous tone,

"They were wearing the grey camo of your team. They must have said something to give you a lead. What about the ID-ing of the bodies we left?" Coldsmith-Briggs shook his head and began,

"Unfortunately, we weren't able…" Hawke's cool demeanor finally came to an abrupt end. He hissed a sharp sigh through his front teeth to punctuate his drawing his sidearm. The muzzle of the Sig-Sauer .40 was mere inches from the white-clad spy's nose but the man didn't react.

Archangel kept his eyes locked with St John's.

For his part, St John's nerves were as steady as his gaze was determined. Unlike most TV shows, the pistol did not 'shiver' as it hung at the end of the soldier's arm. There was a timeless, pregnant pause before Hawke snarled,

"Where is my brother!" He did not bother cocking the weapon as it was a stupid, wasted move that was only something Hollywood used to add drama by directors who didn't know any better.

Archangel opened his mouth as if to say something but Jo interrupted him from her bed,

"Saint John Hawke, put the gun down. I understand your anger because I'd like to know what happened to String as well. I'm very suspicious about the way things happened and I have questions I'd like Michael to answer. I love you both dearly but this is not the way to do it. I don't blame you since I understand what you are doing and why. Trust me when I say I will act if you don't stand down." He averted his eyes briefly to see that she had unraveled the bandage on her right hand and was now pointing a revolver at his side.

Hawke realized he was in a lose-lose situation. It was unlikely he could could disarm Jo in one smooth motion since her hands and arms were stronger from the use of the wheelchair. If he diverted his attention from Archangel, the spy would likely use his cane to easily remove Hawke's advantage. Hawke said evenly,

"I just want to find out what he knows. If I have to…" A low voice interrupted him from the door,

"He doesn't _know_ anything." Hawke started to turn to face Newman but the other man continued in an even tone, "Don't even point that weapon at me if you want to keep that arm." Hawke turned his head to give the man a demanding look.

Newman's eyes seemed to stare right through him and St John got the feeling from those eyes that he was staring down the business end of a double-barreled shotgun and the hammers had just been cocked. Church Consulting's Chief spy approached while revealing,

"I've been calling in favors all day. There is plenty of chatter about the incident but most of it is in military channels. Very little of it is in the intelligence community and almost none of it relates to any specifics in reference to our interests."

Hawke suspected there was more to it than that but Newman's face was impossible to read.

Hawke sighed loudly though his nose and bent his elbow slightly to take some of the threat out of his weapon. Newman continued,

"Now in reference to your sidearm."

As if on cue, 8 Zebra team members swarmed into the room. they set positions along the wall except for a couple who came around Newman in a high-low formation coming straight at St John.

Hawke's eyes flitted to each commando, his body tensed for what was coming next. He saw Achangel look in Newman's direction and shake his head.

_**"Hold!"**_

Newman commanded softly and everything in the room seemed to freeze for an instant. He spoke easily but in that tone that made the hairs on the back of Hawke's neck stand up. Jo had once accurately described the man's voice as '_creepy_ and was glad that she was a Christian girl because that voice could likely put the fear of God into the Devil himself'. Caitlin had then jokingly suggested that Newman could give voice lessons to Vincent Price. The enigmatic man continued his _ad hoc _soliloquy,

"Out of respect for who you are and what you have accomplished as well as understanding the difficulties you have encountered today, I'm willing to forget this ever happened. I do believe the delightful Miss Santini has requested you to surrender your weapon to her and I suggest you comply. I'm also doing this for the benefit of my commandos as well as for yourself. It would be an interesting contest to observe but I have the suspicion that in the ensuing mêlée the 2 commandos you do not incapacitate would be none the worse for wear when they took you down." The usually stoic Newman indulged himself in a small wry grin as the commando leader made a quick series of gestures to order his team to make egress.

In the next instant, it was as if someone had hit rewind on a video of the commandos' entry.


	36. Chapter 36

"Please Cait-ie Kitty, do what I'm asking, we simply don't have time to debate the merits." The tone in St John's voice was almost pleading but the look in his eyes was unmistakably demanding.

Despite her reservations, Caitlin recognized her husband's demeanor meant it was useless to argue. She sighed in response, her brow furrowing as she spoke,

"I'm sorry Johnny its just that I don't like the way this is going."

"I know, babe, I know. That's why I'm having you do this. Nicko has my back and I'm sure that we can handle just about anything. But I'm having you in charge of the insurance policy just in case. Just remember that I want to keep this as straightforward as possible; nothing fancy!" He kissed her to punctuate his point and closed the door before she could protest further. He knew his wife was a capable pilot and her combat skills were comparable to his even though she wasn't as much of a risk-taker as he or his brother was.

SKYSHARK ascended into the air with barely a whisper from the blades as full stealth was activated.

Hawke got back into the old SANTINI AIR jeep and sped off.

Santini had given Caitlin his SKYSHARK flightsuit before they had traded places as the helicopter's pilot. Nick was now clipping the fasteners on his body armor and adjusting his weapon accordingly.

The location of the meet was just another couple of miles away and both men spent the time in silent prayer. They both knew what Dom had drilled into them from childhood: _a good soldier knows when to keep his head up to shoot, head down to avoid being a target, and especially head bowed in prayer–when it comes your turn, you want to be sure that your accounts are all squared with the Judge! _

A quarter-mile past the low hills were a series of cliffs and, as promised, there was one plateau that stuck out. There was a woman with her hand on the shoulder of a child and four commandos bracketing her a respectable distance away.

Without saying a word, Hawke brought the Jeep to a halt and stepped out. Hawke and Santini shared a glance as they drew their sidearms. Nick held his position at the front of the Jeep as St John strode forward. He kept his eyes on the woman since he knew that Santini was watching everything else. Hawke silently stepped the semi-path to the top of the plateau. He kept his pace as all eyes followed him. He came to stop just a few yards into the top of the plateau. He quickly glanced at the enemy commandos, measuring them all up. He was about to tell his daughter it was all going to be all right since daddy was here now but the woman spoke first,

"Where is the woman? My condition was that the whole family be present!" The woman demanded with an evil scowl. St John responded evenly,

"Unavailable. It was your people who shot her down. It was fortunate that she survived at all but you simply don't walk away from something like that." It was an outright lie but Hawke didn't care. This plan was hanging on a thread. He really wished he had his brother's talent for strategy. Stringfellow could play chess all day. St John loved poker but did not have the talent for it.

The fact that everyone had their weapons drawn made for a incredibly bad start. Everyone on the plateau with him was only armed with pistols. The only ones unarmed were the two females, Kayra Lynn and the woman. Hawke gestured ever so slightly with his head and Santini began to stride toward the low plateau.

Nick was halfway between the jeep and St John when one of the enemy SUVs began to race toward him! Even with his enhanced reflexes, he barely had time to react. He ran a couple steps toward the vehicle and leapt up, hoping to clear the SUV. He almost made it. The SUV came to an abrupt halt and sand flew as the driver slammed into reverse right as Santini started to come back down. Had Santini completed his maneuver, he would have landed and rolled to one side while shooting at the vehicle. Instead, he tried a catlike roll in midair to try and orient himself. It almost worked. The one thing he managed to accomplish was to get his gun aimed toward the driver's side of the front windshield. The three shots made one hole in the glass and the driver was dead before Nick crash-landed to the side of the hood, taking the side mirror with him as he bounced off. Santini shook his head and dragged himself a few feet before he rolled over and weakly raised his weapon at the SUV.

For its part, the vehicle continued on its path to roll to a stop after only a few yards. Hawke wanted to go check on his friend but circumstances wouldn't allow it. Just then SKYSHARK popped up less than 1000 yards away from the cliffs.

St John's eyes flicked to the helicopter and back. He was sure they hadn't noticed given the distance and his dark sunglasses, but somehow the woman turned her head in surprise. The sudden appearance bought him the seconds he needed. The odds were terribly one-sided. They had planned carefully and St John and his team were clearly outmaneuvered. St John realized he had to make his move. It was now or never.

His finger began to tighten on his sidearm's trigger. He knew he was going to have to act fast. He was in the line of fire for both sides and with Nick out of commission, he was going to have to make each round count. It was an instant before the trigger reached the 'break' where the hammer would drop. Looking into his daughter's pleading eyes, St John's heart jumped into his throat and he hesitated. In that instant, there was timeless moment of stillness broken only by what sounded like the faint buzzing of an insect. The woman he was aiming at flinched and got a sick look as if she'd been stung. St John heard the echo of a distant explosion. He recognized the look on the woman's face as that of some one who didn't realize they were dead. St John was confused because he was certain he hadn't fired…or had he? The woman staggered back and continued until she fell from sight off the small plateau.

St John realized he was standing in a very bad place so he grabbed Kayra Lynn and did a rolling dive off the other end of the plateau. There was a subsequent extended roar of multiple type of autofire as the enemy commandos traded fire with SKYSHARK. Hawke found himself enveloped in a wall of sand kicked up by SKYSHARK's prop wash.

He tore off the custom-designed dark blue bullet-resistant jacket and stuffed his daughter inside. She was a little trouper. Despite being petrified and confused, she was incredibly brave and obedient to her father's instructions. He shouted words to that effect and concluded by telling her that _Daddy loves you _giving her a kiss. He looked up to spot two shadowy figures retreating into the virtual sandstorm and quickly brought both down with two double-taps.

SKYSHARK continued to ease forward, every foot of progress increasing the intensity of the gyrating wall of sand and debris.

"What is he doing?" MAIDEN asked as her husband disappeared in the cloud of sand. From behind her APPLE replied,

"He just took off his ballistic jacket and wrapped it around Kayra Lynn. Two of the men who were running from us just got taken down by him. We have multiple inbounds on the ground. Looks like there are about five Hummers all with weapons on top. Do you want me to control the 30-cal M134 again?"

"No thank you. At least not yet. I need you to keep me on a tactical update since all we see right now are ground vehicles." The lead Hummer opened fire with a machine gun and ricochets danced across the windshield. With a thought, MAIDEN activated the .50 cal and with a long burst, tore the Hummer in two down the middle. She then fired two grenades. They impacted on the last vehicle in the column. Two missiles finished off the column. The first impacted on the rear of the next-to-last vehicle and resulted in the destruction of the vehicle as well as the one behind it. The second missile nailed the vehicle which had been in the center of the column and reduced it to a smoldering hulk.

"We have six rotarys inbound. Small problem though, I cannot access the advanced scanners since I cannot actuate the pedals. I can give you tactical array and basic scanners as well as standard and mid-range sensors. So I can't give you the type of rotarys or what armament they are loaded with." APPLE announced with an apology. Maiden replied as she hauled the controls over to to confront the new threats,

"No worries Sis, it should be more than sufficient. I have payback to deliver and I think too much information will get in my way." MAIDEN hit the impellers and fired off a series of rockets. Two of the rockets struck home and one of the attackers fell from the sky. This scattered the others as SKYSHARK blew through the line.

Returning to normal speed, MAIDEN spun SKYSHARK around and launched another spread of rockets. This not only destroyed yet another attacker but had the net effect of disrupting the reorganizing attempt of the remaining helicopters. One of the attackers broke off and made a beeline for the remaining ground forces. MAIDEN spoke into the intercom,

"OK buddy; I don't _think _so! Clever trick but challenging a woman's intuition means that you get to face her wrath!" She switched over to the comlink, "Heads' up gentlemen! You have an incoming bogey from the South-SouthWest. I'm on its tail but its friends aren't too thrilled about it. Hang in there and do what you can." MAIDEN couldn't fire yet since the enemy was directly between SKYSHARK and her family.

She nearly smiled as she watched her family scramble for position. Nick dragged himself to a protected position behind the Hummer which had run him down. He gestured for Kayra Lynn to join him. A bulletproof vest with tiny legs from the knees down sticking out from the bottom and a splash of hair sticking out of the top scampered toward him.

MAIDEN raced for the ground so that she could get a better angle on her attack posture. Her target stayed low to make it harder to attack it from her range but it also made it easier for St John to return with the machine gun mounted on one of the Hummers. The opposing helicopter concluded one strafing run before MAIDEN was able to lock weapons. The helicopter spun around and was starting to fire again when SKYSHARK fired a missile. The weapon impacted squarely but MAIDEN had employed a _fire and forget _by coming about abruptly and firing a short burst from the 20mm cannon at the helicopter on her immediate tail.

She spun hard about and confronted the remaining helicopters which were all bunched together. If she were her husband or brother-in-law, she would probably have fired the cannon in a prolonged burst and knocked all of her opponents out of the sky in one fell swoop. She had never had the talent for that kind of combat. She picked the closest opponent and fired a quick burst with the .50 cal machine gun. Behind her, APPLE spoke up in a frustrated voice,

"If you can hold her steady for a moment or two, I can give you expanded tactical modes." MAIDEN replied by firing the impellers and hugged the ground as she made for a divot in the cliffs. The movement was so abrupt that it threw confusion into her opponents. They all scrambled back into formation but by that time she had disappeared.

SKYSHARK hugged the edge of the cliff several meters below ground level. MAIDEN heard a snap behind her and several repeated muted impacts along with the sound of APPLE grunting. For her part, APPLE had removed one of her canes from the weapons' locker and jammed its tip toward the pedal actuators. After about a dozen misses, she finally hit the correct pedal the correct way as evidenced by the changes in the primary monitor. MAIDEN had been just about to ask what her friend was doing to cause all the racket when her helmet's display re-coalesced into a set of functions which were more appropriate for their situation. It startled MAIDEN as the additional information flooded her awareness. She almost didn't notice the…

"Incoming bogey!!" APPLE cried out. The helicopter roared past the divot SKYSHARK was hiding in and Caitlin managed to get her wits about her just in the nick of time. With the blink of an eye, she activated the machine gun pod. In her adrenaline-fueled near-panic, she didn't realized that the cannon had been chosen until she fired. It was a quick burst which reduced the other helicopter to a ball of flames the instant it appeared.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that the heavy cannon's recoil pushed SKYSHARK backward. The impact of SKYSHARK tail striking the cliff nearly gave the two occupants whiplash. MAIDEN mused that if this had been AIRWOLF, they'd currently be in a dizzying course for the ground due to the rear propeller being destroyed. As it was, several alarms went off and APPLE busied herself at her terminal while MAIDEN sent SKYSHARK back into action. The 3-D _soccer ball _was now a pseudo-hologram and indicated that two helis were coming at her from opposite sides of the cliff.

MAIDEN waited until the absolute last second and activated the impellers. Her path took her purposely directly at the heli to her portside. She angled her path so that as she passed, her sonic boom of her supersonic flight threw her attacker into a temporarily uncontrolled spin. This worked perfectly since her flight path was nearly perpendicular to that of the starboard attacker. The ploy was to get the farther one's attention, which it did. The one to starboard anticipated the lateral maneuver and fired accordingly. This meant that the path of the heli's fire intersected with the stalled heli to SKYSHARK's port. To be certain, MAIDEN flared and did a hard 180° spin. SKYSHARK stuttered through the spin and this brought a word of reproof from APPLE who was still busy addressing the issue in reference to the tailfan. Reengaging the impellers, MAIDEN did another supersonic pass at the port heli right as it appeared to recover from the imposed stall. This was the nail in the coffin for the attacker. Smoke began to pour forth from a series of bullet holes near the engine. The pilot tried to do a controlled crash but the heli began to wobble violently and flipped and went nose-down not far from the ground.

The other heli had taken up position behind them and was firing some sort of heavy machine gun. SKYSHARK was shuddering and APPLE was muttering to herself about how chivalry was completely dead or these guys would not be shooting at her. MAIDEN maneuvered for position as another heli tried to trap her against the narrowing cliff wall and laughed,

"Sis, I sincerely doubt that they intend it personally. But keep up the good work anyway just in case and I'll continue to keep these chauvinists at bay." The trick worked, APPLE laughed and the intercom went quiet as she ceased her nervous ranting. Since the impellers were interfering with APPLE's efforts to maintain the stability of the tailfan, MAIDEN had to resist using her favorite tactic. Instead, she came to an abrupt halt and pulled up hard right as the cliff came to a sharp turn.

This sent the three remaining attackers into disarray. She took advantage of this by keeping close to the ground and making a beeline for her family's location. Because of the plateau and the cliff, they were surrounded on two sides and outnumbered 17 to 1. There were currently 34 attackers according to the sensors.

Nick was in the gun hatch of the armored Humvee and firing the machine gun in short bursts with one hand. St John was inside the driver's side door firing a HK 416 on select fire as fast as he could. As SKYSHARK closed the 2 miles, 3 attackers fell. MAIDEN made one _danger close _pass of the attackers to draw the fire and kick up as much sand as she could. She was so close to the ground that there were actually a series of thumps as something more solid than bullets struck SKYSHARK. MAIDEN quipped,

"Oh did I forget to tell the bad guys to duck?!" APPLE replied wryly,

"Shut up St John!" Both got a laugh out of this. SKYSHARK whipped around under MAIDEN's practiced touch and on the second pass, she raked the .30 cal minigun through the ranks of the attacking forces. This reduced the attacking force by 11, improving the odds for brother and husband dramatically. MAIDEN was about to make another pass when her helmet informed her that the remaining helicopters were coming at her in force.

While maintaining her drastically low altitude, she drove SKYSHARK in a beeline directly for the attackers. As ricochets danced across the transparent armor which made up the front windshield, SKYSHARK returned fire in a series of bursts which dropped yet another helicopter from the sky. This was followed by an air-intercept missile which the target tried to avoid in vain.

The last two helicopters were close enough for their guns to start to crack the windshield so MAIDEN thumbed the impellers to get them instantly past the remaining attackers. A few keystrokes from APPLE and the cracks in front of MAIDEN disappeared as the miniscule _nannoids_ 'healed' the armor. With the impellers still employed, MAIDEN fired the 20mm cannon and tracked it across the flight path of the final helicopters. This resulted in them both being reduced to twin piles of flaming wreckage as they fell from the sky. SKYSHARK's impellers cut off as it came about to return to the location of its occupant's family members.

By the time that the scanners had reacquired the location, the two men had been all but victorious. APPLE commented that she had kept one of the sidebar monitors open to the satellite feed of the area. It seemed that the minigun pass had thrown so much confusion into the attackers that a number of them had stood up and even followed SKYSHARK on the run. This had left several in the open and the force as a whole in such disarray that it had taken only a moment or so for the two men to use their superior skills to maximum effect.

The ground was practically littered with bodies. MAIDEN took SKYSHARK on a wide pass around the area while APPLE ran a wide sensor scan to determine if there were any more enemies present. There were none. SKYSHARK landed and everyone helped Jo tend to her brother's wounds.

* * *

A lone figure strode toward them across the empty sand. The figure was armed with a long gun but held it in a 'safe' position. The shimmer of heat obscured the features too much to make out an identity.

Caitlin was wearing the HUD spectacles but all those did was magnify everything including the shimmer. Unfortunately she did not have access to the scanners. While everyone else drew their weapons, Jo swung herself around on her braces and began to make her way back to SKYSHARK. She had just gotten to the Lady and opened the door when a message from Caitlin appeared on Jo's HUD: _"It's OK Jo-jo, its just Jason Locke" _.

Jo worked her way into the Engineer's seat and prepared the systems for trouble anyway. After all, Locke worked for Newman. She'd never worked for or with Locke, but his reputation preceded him. The bosses were all birds of a feather with the one exception of Coldsmith-Briggs.

She locked her forearm crutches into their place at the last clamp on the weapons cage. She removed the HUD spectacles and unhooked the interface from her implant. She replaced the setup with the helmet. The system was already booted up so she locked the sensors on the approaching figure.

The high-tech systems took less than an instant to cut through the distortion of the heat and blowing sand. She was immediately informed that the long gun Locke was carrying was an MSG90A1 and it was loaded with a high-capacity 20-round magazine from which one round had been fired. Jo sent a text message to Caitlin's spectacles indicating _Minigun is at your control via HUD_.

Locke may have been on their side but Jo knew that things had a tendency to change on a whim at a moment's notice. She had no idea what his agenda was and out of the handful of people she implicitly trusted in this world, he was certainly not in the top 5. As creepy as Newman was, she somehow trusted him more than many others she knew. Perhaps it was since he had given the personal invitation for her to lead the Church Consulting Bible study on occasion.


	37. Chapter 37

St John was growing increasingly disturbed.

In his opinion, he had every right to be.

His brother was missing, presumably the victim of a kidnapping. There was nothing he could do about it either.

The tool in the adjacent building was likely the cause but was certainly part of the cure. They no longer needed a "Wolf in Sheep's Clothing" what they needed now was a "Multitool with Teeth and an Attitude Problem".

He'd spent much of the night going over the SKYSHARK in the empty warehouse next door. Nick had joined him for a few hours until both of them had decided to take a break and Nick had left while Hawke had dropped himself into the overstuffed office chair.

The few hours of sleep had left him actually feeling worse for wear. Nick had recovered quite nicely but was still walking with a slight limp. They both had headaches but St John was actually doing something about his.

Nick didn't actually have to be there but St John was now the sole proprietor of Hawke Aviation.

Hawke briefly thought about doubling his dose of the pills he'd been prescribed but decided against it. As he left the office to cross over to the personal area of the hangar, Nick and Jo were just leaving the elevator.

Nick was still wearing the jeans and t-shirt he'd been wearing earlier. Jo had changed but her face was red and puffy as though she'd been crying. She wore a brave face and her lips were set in a slight smile. Nick was slouching and his hands were stuck deep in his pockets.

Fortunately there was no business to conduct that day so they could all take a break and relax.

Or so Hawke thought. Once they got close enough, Nick sighed,

"KC isn't here. I looked in to see why he wasn't down stairs yet and his room is empty." Hawke heard a vehicle pull up into the parking lot and assumed it was either Danielle or Renee. His brows furrowed as he asked,

"Was there a note or anything?" Nick shook his head as they all made their way back over to the office. St John continued as he allowed Jo to buzz her wheelchair past him into the office, "Well perhaps Danielle will have some idea of what is going on." A voice spoke up from behind them,

"Actually, he's on assignment. He and Michael left early this morning." The three spun around, the voice being familiar enough they didn't bother to draw weapons even though they were surprised.

"Dad?!" Nick and Jo chorused. St John was closer and extended a hand to greet the man in his usual unorthodox fashion.

"Good morning Gabby. What brings you to our fine establishment?" Gabriel Antonio Santini smiled and announced,

"I'm your new boss. Michael Archangel was given a special assignment this morning and he chose your friend the good Captain to be his aide and bodyguard. As of today, the Deputy Director in charge of the Special Projects Division is now Gabriel Archangel!"

St John stared at him for a few minutes as he absorbed this information.

The Santini brothers were birds of a feather after a fashion. While Dom was a dead ringer for Ernest Borgnine, Gabe bore more of a resemblance to a bearded Brian Dennehy. Hawke sighed heavily,

"What about Locke and Newman?" Archangel replied with a chuckle,

"Newman is of course who he has always been. What that actually is, is beyond me. Locke, on the other hand, is having to deal with some of the changes. When I found out that you owe him a favor, I had a long discussion with him and let him know that he'd better save that _favor_ for a special occasion. I know that Newman had a conversation with String last week but I'm not completely familiar with all of the details. Suffice it to say that I'm aware of the resource tucked away next door and I'm wanting to come to some sort of an accommodation with you. I currently act as an advisor for Cruiser Corp and am on the board of directors for The Sapphire Group. LaFiamma Inc is currently seen with some disfavor after failing to deliver on a fairly negotiated package. We are still attempting to determine if the deal was a red herring for a more sinister goal. As it is, Church Consulting has been placed in the not-so-envious position of outsourcing our military efforts. We knew this was inevitable but we were hoping that our previous standing would delay things during the war on terrorism. Unfortunately the fact that we used to coordinate things for the rest of the intelligence community means that our military stance is not as tenable when we reached out to others for assistance. Since word has already gotten out about the viability of the SKYSHARK program, I have been besieged by requests inquiring as to the availability for covert operations outside our purview as well as demonstrations for interservice modification. Neither of which we have a vested interest in at this point." Nick spoke up at this,

"So what are your plans for our little lady?" St John interrupted,

"I think that is a subject for a more in-depth conversation. I already have some ideas for things we need to accomplish and I have been in contact with another team who agree with my assessment." Archangel looked at him and sighed,

"Just please make sure you keep me in the loop. That was a pet peeve of Michael's when your brother would take flights of fancy. It finally came down to Michael demanding after-action reports so that he could justify the expense for the matériel diversion."

St John smirked at this, remembering how Stringfellow would commiserate with Dominic about the progress of a mission and the older man would take notes while recording everything on a dictation device. He'd later plug the device into the USB port of his computer and transmit the resulting text file in an e-mail to the one-eyed spy. Archangel continued,

"I realize that Michael gave a considerable amount of latitude on who was allowed to take part in missions but I have one concern. I am not entirely comfortable with a child of mine being in the face of danger. I fully realize that Jo-jo has acquitted herself nicely in the past few days and I acknowledge that. Its just that a team is only as good as its support crew and I'd much rather have her working behind the scenes." Jo frowned and Nick spoke up,

"Look Pops, she's proven herself just as capable as any of us at being able to handle SKYSHARK. I think that qualifies her to be a full member of this team. I realize you still think of her as Little Josepheniana, but she's my sister and I'm plenty impressed by what she accomplished in the heat of the moment." Gabriel Archangel sighed and nodded,

"I'll take it under advisement." The two men had always had a confrontational relationship. With the elder Santini, it was an occupational hazard. With the younger, it was from years of conditioning and the fact that the fight was literally in his blood. Father and son looked at each other for a moment until Archangel turned and indicated with a gesture guards/aides that it was time to depart.

Jo changed a setting on her chair and sped off after her father.

This left Nick and St John standing together outside the office looking down the runway.

"So I guess that's that?!"

"Hardly…"


End file.
